The Amulet of Stone
by KevinVoigt
Summary: [COMPLETED] [Sequel to 'The Ring of Gold'] With the threat of the Brotherhood gone, Harry and his friends find that an even greater threat on the horizon. Now they must race to find out who is responsible and how they can stop them.
1. Smoke and Mirrors

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Note: This story is a sequel to 'The Ring of Gold'. If you have not read that story this won't make a lot of sense to you. You should probably make sure you've finished that one before you start on this one.

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CHAPTER 1**

**Smoke and Mirrors**

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Harry found himself staring at a door he'd seen a hundred times. He couldn't quite tell just how it made him feel this time. There was still some of the old anger and resentment, but now it was blurred by confusion and regret. None of that would change how it would end. He'd already accepted that. Just as he always did, he reached for the door and pushed it open. 

Sitting at a chair in the center of his study was Grigore Tarus, looking calm, thoughtful and very much alive. He was gazing upward into the pale moonlight as it fell through the window in the ceiling. He made no noise or movement to acknowledge Harry's entry to the room. In his hands he held a cup of tea which was releasing swirling wisps of vapor under his chin.

"Come in, Harry," he said in a slow, even voice. "Sit down. I've made some tea. Not too much sugar. Just the way you like it."

There was something strange about the tone of his voice. There was always something strange about the tone of his voice, but this time Harry felt he understood it a little better. There was a touch of confusion and worry in it. The first time he'd heard it, Harry had so rarely observed those emotions from Grigore that he hadn't recognized them. He sat down, knowing what was coming next.

"You were following Henri," the old wizard announced. "Where did you find him?"

"In Marseilles," Harry answered, adding "—in the bed of a nineteen year old daughter of a French Quidditch official." He picked up a cup of tea and swirled it about, releasing a wave of aromatic vapor. "He's a vile person," Harry said as he stared into his cup. "He's selfish, arrogant, and completely lacking the most basic semblance of morals.

"He is uncomplicated."

"He's untrustworthy," Harry shot back.

"He's predictable." Grigore declared more firmly. He finally pulled his eyes from the sky and stared at Harry. "I don't need to trust him," he said without emotion. "I need only understand him. I have plenty of carpenters, Harry. What I need is a hammer."

"And what more do you need him to ruin?" Harry asked. "The girl was going to be married in a month. Her fiancÃ© just opened his own shop. She was happy—"

"—Harry," Grigore interrupted, "we've talked about—"

"_He used a potion,_" Harry growled. "She didn't want him, and he doesn't want her. He did it _because_ she didn't want him. He needed to do it to prove that he _could_. And that's only the beginning. He works for a younger witch. She hates him and it only makes him desire her more. His ambition is boundless and he covets anything that is denied to him."

"Such people can be useful, Harry," Tarus argued. "His desires are simple and easily conjured at a moment's notice. By feeding them, he can be controlled and molded to our will."

"What would we need to change?" Harry asked bitterly. "He's doing plenty of evil without our help. I figured you would want to leave him alone. He's just a part of nature, isn't he? Or do we only oppose evil when it gets in our way?"

Harry could hear the anger growing in his own voice. A good deal of it was from the frustration of following Henri and being ordered not to interfere. An equally large part was due to the welcome he received when he returned. Over the last few months he'd grown to respect many of the other Brotherhood members. They had become his friends in a time when it was not safe for him to be with his real friends. However, that had all changed. That night when he'd returned to the Castle, every last one of them had refused to speak with him except to say that he should speak with Grigore. Now that he was, all Grigore wanted to talk about was some lecherous Frenchman he planned to use and throw away like so many other wizards before him.

Grigore seemed oblivious to the anger swirling inside him. "We have no time tonight for that same old discussion, Harry."

"Why not?" he snapped. "We've got time to discuss Henri. You didn't listen to what I had to say before having him join us. Then, you sent me off to watch him, knowing I would return and tell you that I think it's a mistake. Now we have the time to sip tea while I tell you what you already know, but no time to discuss the fact that your actions are worse than the situation you're trying to prevent."

Grigore stared silently at Harry, then took a sip of tea and set the cup gently on the table in front of him. "I did not summon you here, Harry," he said heavily. "You came of your own will."

"I came here because no one would talk to me until I did," Harry replied coldly. "Something happened here while I was gone. Why won't anyone talk to me about it?"

Grigore took a deep breath and replied, "Because I ordered them not to."

"Why?"

"You are correct, Harry. Something has happened while you were in France. There are things you and I must discuss and I did not want you to be influenced by the opinions of others."

"What sort of things?" Harry asked.

Grigore sat back in his chair and watched Harry carefully. "Where were you on the first of September?" he asked calmly.

"I was at King's Cross Station in London," Harry answered, "—but you already knew that."

Grigore nodded but didn't take his eyes off Harry. "And _why_ were you there?

"Josef and I overheard rumors of a Death Eater attack planned on the platform," Harry answered quickly.

"There were rumors of Death Eater attacks planned in Paris as well," Grigore retorted. "That's why I sent you there."

"I thought Dragomir and Andros could handle it," Harry said, "and I was right."

"In that instance, perhaps," conceded Grigore. "Yet so was I. Razvan and Tiberiu stopped the London attack long before you and Josef arrived and they drew far less attention than Dragomir and Andros did in Paris. It would have been better for you to remain where you were and help them see that it was done correctly."

Grigore folded his hands and stared searchingly at Harry. "But you were not thinking of the best interests of the Brotherhood or even the wizarding world when you went to London that day. You were thinking only of yourself. You went there because Ginevra Weasley was there."

"I went there to keep her safe," Harry countered.

"You went there to _watch_ her," Grigore corrected him. "You knew she was in no danger. Tiberiu sent a message to Josef an hour before you left Paris. You went there because you _wanted_ to see her."

Harry paused. Why should he deny it? There was nothing wrong with that. No one had been hurt. The Death Eaters had been stopped. There were no rules against such a thing. He looked Grigore in the eyes and answered: "Yes. I did."

"Do you know _why_ you wanted to see her? You knew you couldn't speak to her. Why is it comforting to simply be near her?"

"I love her," Harry replied simply.

Grigore leaned back in his chair, looking pensive. "Curious," he murmured. "Love is a powerful emotion. As is greed. Both force you to place one person's desires over the needs of all others. Where greed is focused on one's self, love is focused on another. Beyond that, the differences are much more subtle.

"Greed is inherently combined with a desire for self-preservation, while love is rarely restricted by such burdens. Its hold is more than powerful enough to drive men to risk the lives of themselves and others, betray their friends, and even turn against the entire world. I have explained many times what consequences we face if we would fail at some critical point. So tell me, Harry: why do you love her, despite those terrible risks?"

"Love doesn't need reasons or justifications," said Harry. "There is no cause or explanation for love. I love her for who she is and we are both stronger because of it."

"An interesting way of putting it," Grigore replied with a nod. "And what of the evening training sessions? Are there no reasons or explanations for them, either? Were they fueled by your desire to strengthen yourself, or did you hold them just for the joy of fighting your fellow wizards?"

"No one ever said they were forbidden," Harry replied. "I didn't even organize them. Josef did that."

"Yes, and Josef said that you were the one who asked him to do it. He said that you told him the sessions should be held in the lower levels where they wouldn't be found as easily."

"He— That traitorous—" sputtered Harry. "Is that what he told you? That was _his_ suggestion." A gentle warmth spread through Harry's chest, as though a small candle had been lit. "_He_ was the one who told you about King's Cross. He told you about everything. After weeks of pretending to be my friend, he just— he betrayed me."

"Yes, Harry. In the end, he valued the Brotherhood over your friendship," Grigore agreed. "Yet it was not an easy decision for him to make. That should have answered all my questions, but I had to be certain. I'm afraid he and I nearly fell into the same trap as the late Albus Dumbledore. For us, however, it was not too late."

"What are you talking about?"

Grigore rose from his chair and strode over toward his large desk against the wall. "I have been noticing troubling things, lately. My mind has been clouded with a multitude of questions, and only recently have I been able to see the answers through the fog. I have re-discovered a very grave problem that I admit I had been blind to for some time. Will you come with me? There is something very important which you must see for yourself."

Despite his uncertainties, Harry stood and followed the older wizard. They left the study and began winding through the corridors. The other Brotherhood members were acting oddly. As he and Grigore would walk past them, they would stop, step to the side and watch silently as they passed. It was eerie. Harry had always found the Brotherhood to be surprisingly informal. To see them acting this way was alarming and almost threatening.

Grigore kept walking, seemingly oblivious to the behavior of the others. Harry followed slightly as Grigore led them down corridors he had never used before. It seemed as though every corridor was sloping downward. Occasionally, they would turn some corner and walk down a flight of stairs. Other things began standing out in Harry's mind. There were no other wizards walking around. Even at that hour of the night, the Romanian Ministry did not stop working and the majority of them had no idea the Brotherhood even existed. They must have passed into the part of the Castle hidden to all but Brotherhood wizards.

Harry began inspecting his surroundings with more scrutiny. They were passing pairs of Brotherhood members with peculiar regularity. Taking all other things into account, the conclusion was obvious. Wherever they were going, Grigore had posted guards all along the path. What was he afraid of? Who could attack them there? Harry felt certain that Josef had played some part in it, but he could not imagine what part that might be.

They descended another flight of stairs and Harry found himself standing in a large, circular room, ringed with crackling torches. There was a break in the wall off to his left, where a large arched corridor sloped downward even further. He was certain he had never been there before. "Where are we?" he asked.

"Do you not know?" Grigore replied. "This castle was not built as a fortress to protect wizards. At least, not in the way you might think. It was built to protect the chamber at the end of that hallway."

"I'm not in the mood for mysteries, Grigore."

"Nor am I," he replied seriously. "Not any more. Follow me. Tonight, we will unravel our mysteries together."

As Grigore walked off toward the arched corridor, Harry cautiously followed him. There was something strange about the room, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. It felt distinctly uncomfortable, and yet he didn't really want to turn back.

As he passed under the arch and stared down the corridor, he could see another circular chamber at the other end. The closer they got, the more Harry noticed the general uneasiness of the previous room growing into a more tangible feeling. It felt like a bizarre pressure coming from behind his eyes. The more he tried to ignore it, the more pronounced it became.

His head was already filled with pulsating noise, like the muffled sound of wind gusting through a forest. He found himself rubbing his forehead as he passed under the second arch and into the smaller chamber. There was something off about the air in the room. Harry could feel it pressing all around him. It was hard to breathe. His eyesight was getting a little fuzzy. Where were they? What was Grigore trying to show him? Somewhere deep inside his mind, something was trying to tell him the answer.

Harry felt drawn to a pair of gold-trimmed stone doors cut into the far wall of the chamber. Grigore had stopped, and was standing in the center of the chamber. He watched Harry as though waiting for him to make the next move.

"Do you still not know what lies on the other side of those doors?" Grigore asked. "Do you recognize them from any dreams or visions?"

Harry walked closer to the doors. He didn't remember anything like them. It had been years since he'd dreamed of the door to the Department of Mysteries. He kept scouring his memories, but couldn't remember anything like the two doors in front of him.

His eyes traced the curling shapes in the gold trim. As his mind picked out the images of snakes and lions locked in a thousand battles, he realized that the noise inside his head was clearer next to the doors. He could almost make out... voices. His curiosity overwhelmed him, and he reached for the door.

Sharp pain sliced through his forehead the instant his fingers made contact with the golden handles. His arm recoiled as though the metal had scalded his hand, while he instinctively reached for his scar with the other.

"You can feel it, can't you?" Grigore asked. "You heard it up in the other chamber, but now you can feel it. Does it make your scar hurt?"

"No," he answered quickly. "It's just... It's only a headache," he said. He doubted that Grigore would believe him, but he didn't feel like admitting Grigore was right, either. "My scar only hurt when Voldemort was angry."

Grigore frowned. "Voldemort is gone, Harry, yet your scar remains. It is a monument to the clash between the purest love and the darkest magic used in millennia. It formed the link between you and Voldemort. He is gone, but you remain, as does your scar."

"What are you saying?" Harry asked. "That I'm linked with a dead wizard?"

"Your scar is more than a link between you and Lord Voldemort. It is a wound in magic itself." Grigore began slowly pacing around the perimeter of the room. "At the instant it was created, absolute good and absolute evil existed in such proximity, that in that one moment, the two became one."

Grigore waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Luckily for you and every other wizard, it lasted only a fraction of a second. The curse rebounded, destroying your home and stripping Voldemort from his body. However, it could not destroy what had been created in that fraction of a second, and your scar is a physical manifestation of just how close the world came to destruction that day."

Harry's eyes followed the older wizard as he walked. He wasn't certain where the conversation was headed, so he decided to simply allow it to run its course. "So if the curse hadn't rebounded, it would have destroyed the world?"

"Perhaps not in the way you are thinking, but yes, it would have. It would have unleashed a force that the world is currently powerless to withstand."

"But that isn't the end, is it?" Harry asked. "Voldemort is gone, and I'm still feeling him."

Grigore paused to look at Harry. "Is it truly Voldemort you feel?" he questioned. "Could he, by some perversion of magic have returned? No, Harry. He is gone. You yourself have seen this. He was the darkest wizard the world has seen for millennia, yet he was only balancing an equation. He was an eventuality that was virtually guaranteed by the rise of wizards like Albus Dumbledore."

And so Grigore returned to the idea of balancing the forces in nature. It was not the first time Harry hat heard this idea. Grigore knew that Harry thought it was a load of rubbish, but it never stopped him from bringing it up and starting a fresh debate. Harry didn't have the patience for debates. The ache behind his eyes was getting more difficult to ignore.

"That doesn't tell me why my scar is hurting."

"It should," Grigore replied impatiently. "Your scar tied you to Voldemort, but only because he was the greatest vessel of dark magic in the world. Now that he has been vanquished, it will only be a matter of time before another gains enough dark power to take up the other end of the link."

"And you know who it will be, do you?"

Grigore's face fell into a concerned expression. "You do not?"

"I've never thought much of Divination," Harry answered mockingly.

"Nor have I," the old wizard said, ignoring his tone. "I prefer more concrete methods. Follow me."

Grigore quickly walked to the stone doors, and with some effort, pushed the doors open. Though the air remained still and dense, Harry felt a rush of warmth from the other side of the doorway. With it came an increase in volume and sharpness of the sounds in his head. He recognized them now as whispers —or distant shouting, perhaps. Whatever they were, they were coming from the other room.

Harry began creeping toward the door. He felt strange. He knew he had to look into the room. Grigore had already stepped across the threshold and waited at the top of what appeared to be a set of stairs. The floor was sunken, hiding whatever might be in its center. Harry couldn't decide if he was afraid to see what it was, or excited.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Grigore asked kindly. "You have nothing to fear. I believe you have seen something like this before."

Harry slowly walked forward, passing through the arched doorway and stopping at the edge of the first step. As he stared down into the sunken hollow in the center of the room, he felt his scar throbbing. Standing on a raised stone platform was an ancient-looking stone arch with a veil of black cloth. It looked identical to the arch he'd seen in the Department of Mysteries, except this one was damaged.

Harry glared at Grigore. "Why did you bring me here?"

"Certainly not to kill you, Harry," he replied as he began walking down the steps. "This is not the first time you have seen one of these. One is within your Ministry, within the Department of Mysteries, I believe. How convenient that they find such a thing on the very place they chose to build their Ministry, don't you think?" he asked with a smile.

Harry remained standing at the top of the stairs. "You haven't answered my question."

"I won't have to," Grigore replied. "The Veil will do that for me. Your Ministry has been seeking answers from their Veil for centuries. However, they always ask the wrong questions. They turn to it to answer their questions about death and the destination of our souls when we leave this world. Asking the veil of these things is as pointless as asking the ocean how to sail a ship."

"And what should they be asking?"

Grigore stopped halfway down the stairs and turned to face Harry. "They should not be asking at all. They should be _listening_. These arches are ancient doorways to the realms of the dead, Harry. They are gateways to the space separating the world of the living from the world of the dead. Through them, the two worlds are capable of perceiving each other. Few wizards understand the importance and danger of that ability. You see, Harry, to those who exist for eternity, the future is as predictable as the phases of the moon. If you have the will and patience, there is much you can hear. I have been listening to them quite a bit lately."

"And they said there is a new Dark Lord?"

"No, Harry. They say there will be one, or that is how he will be recognized," Grigore explained. "He has not yet risen to power, but when he does, he will be unlike any Dark Lord before him."

Harry felt an odd feeling of confidence. It was a familiar situation. It felt almost _comfortable_. He had dealt with Dark Lords. Slowly he began walking down the steps toward Grigore. "Do you know where to find him?"

"I have my suspicions," Grigore replied cryptically. "I know that this is the place where it will begin."

"Have you told the others?"

"No. We must learn more before we do that. At this time, I do not know enough to separate truth from speculation. I know he must be stopped, and I will not risk the inevitable dissension until I am certain."

"You would stop him?" Harry asked. "I thought you sought balance. Wouldn't a new Dark Lord bring balance to the world? Isn't that just what you want?"

Grigore turned and continued down the stairs. "In other times, perhaps, but this thing is not truly a Dark Lord. It is something far more sinister and destructive. If I am correct, the approaching battle will finally accomplish what was only narrowly avoided seventeen years ago."

"It will kill me?"

Grigore glared at him. "No, Harry, think of your scar," he said while tapping his own forehead. "The confrontation between good and evil will rip a hole in the barrier between this world and the next, releasing something that has been imprisoned for more years than any wizard can claim to know."

"How can you know that will happen?"

Grigore turned and extended a bony finger toward the veil. "As I said, I have learned much."

"From who?"

"The dead," Grigore replied simply. "The spirits of thousands of years of wizards speaking through this gateway."

"And you believe them?" Harry asked as he glanced at the Veil. He could hear the whispers in his head. They were different than he remembered. They sounded troubled and upset. There was something else as well. One voice stood out over the rest, but he couldn't quite make it out.

Grigore seemed to notice his confusion. He continued talking, but watched Harry closely. "The concept of deception does not exist to them. Lying is as foreign to them as it is to the tide."

"And they just told you what would happen? Did they say if it could be prevented?"

"We must hope that it can," Grigore answered. "If it cannot, then everything we love will be destroyed."

Harry was on the last step. His eyes skipped from Grigore to the veil. The voices were loud, and he'd only just realized that his scar felt painfully hot. Something about the veil was making his scar hurt. How could that be?

"How can you be certain they aren't wrong?" Harry asked as he stepped onto the stone floor. "How can you be certain that this is going to happen soon, and not in a hundred years? It might mean nothing to them, but it would change our plans significantly."

"I have reason to believe that it will happen sooner than that. That is why I have brought you here," Grigore explained. "I would not ask nor expect you to accept such a thing simply because I told you to. While you were away, Josef and I spoke about many things. I shared my concerns, and, like you, he questioned my conclusions. I brought him here. Together we were able to see and hear more than I ever had before. I brought you here so that you might see what we did."

Grigore motioned for Harry to step closer to the raised platform. Reluctantly, he did as he was instructed. Grigore positioned him so that he and the arch were facing each other. The throbbing in Harry's scar turned into sharp, rhythmic twinges of pain. Through squinting eyes, he couldn't decide if he'd seen the veil move or not. It seemed to be swaying with the pulses in his scar, but the entire room appeared to be wobbling with them as well.

He reached up to his scar and found it frighteningly hot. He'd been just as close to the veil in the Department of Mysteries in his fifth year at Hogwarts, but he hadn't noticed anything more than faint whispers.

"Something's different," Harry croaked. "It hurts."

"I suspected it might," Grigore replied. "I apologize for not warning you. I feared you would not try if you knew about the side effects. I'm sure you've felt worse pain, and I'm afraid this is the only way to answer your questions." Grigore walked up behind him, and put his hands on Harry's shoulders. "You must concentrate on the arch, Harry. Ignore the veil. The Veil is a barrier, but not an impervious one. Your answers lie on the other side."

"The one in London never hurt this much," Harry said over the growing ocean of voices in his head.

Grigore leaned forward and spoke into Harry's ear with a calm voice. "This gate is no different than the one in London or Istanbul or any of the other locations, save one thing: Many years ago, an army of dark wizards attacked the city. They sought to destroy the wizards protecting this chamber, and they believed this gateway to be the source of their power. They failed to destroy it, but they did manage to damage it.

"In their foolish attempt, they made this gate more powerful than it had ever been and more useful than any of the others. You see, the arches were not created as doorways to travel to the other side. Long ago, there was a great catastrophe, and the barrier between this world and the world of the dead was torn in many places. The ancient wizards tried to repair the damage, but it was beyond even their abilities. Instead, they built these gates. They shield and protect us from the world of the dead and prevent the two from mixing.

"When this one was damaged, it created a something like a small leak. In this chamber, a tiny bit of the world of the dead seeps into our world. As for the source of your pain, I expect you will be able to better explain it once you've seen what lies on the other side of the veil."

Harry took a deep breath. Whatever Grigore and Josef had seen, it had fundamentally changed the Brotherhood. Everything was different when he returned. There was a tension in the way everyone was acting. Even Grigore was acting strangely. There was some new darkness in him that worried Harry. At one time, he'd almost been a friend, but now Harry found himself doubting the old wizard. He needed to see for himself just what Grigore had seen. He needed to know what was going to happen.

Ignoring the pain from his scar, Harry forced his eyes open and focused on the veil. It was moving. It was flapping as though tossed about by a light breeze. For a moment, the breeze seemed to stop, then it picked back up, blowing in a different direction. The veil was now billowing out toward him, pushed by some stronger force. He could feel the air blowing against him. It was hot and dry, and new sounds wove between the gusts.

"There are voices," Harry said. He could hear them well enough to make out individual voices. They weren't the weak whispers of the arch in the Department of Mysteries. They were plaintive, warning, and urgent.

"What are they saying, Harry?"

Harry listened closely. There were too many to hear what any one voice might be saying, but there were enough of them to get an idea. He closed his eyes to try and concentrate, and found that he could still see the arch. In his mind, the veil was already stripped away, leaving the archway bare, an opening to an empty blackness. The voices swelled, becoming shouts and desperate cries.

"They're trying to warn me. They—"

Harry's voice was cut short as he froze in shock. A new voice was echoing through the arch. It was a voice he hadn't heard for four years. _Run, Harry,_ it pleaded, _There is no time. You must go._ His blood ran cold. Somewhere on the other side of the arch, his father was trying to speak to him. When the second voice began, Harry's throat tightened until it began to choke him. _Harry, please,_ begged the voice of his mother, _You must leave this place. It's not safe._ The tone of her voice became more urgent. _You're in terrible danger. You must run! Leave while you can! You cannot fight this! It—_

His mother's voice disappeared as though a door had been suddenly shut. In its place rose a sound Harry couldn't identify. It was a grinding, tearing noise, like the sound of a tree being ripped from the ground or the guttural rumbling of an ancient dragon. It was almost painfully loud.

Harry opened his eyes, wondering if the walls of the chamber were being ripped apart. The instant his eyes caught sight of the Veil, his scar exploded with enough pain to rival the Cruciatus Curse. He cried out, then felt himself dropping to the stone floor as his eyes closed tightly.

He found that even with his eyes shut, he could see the room about him, though it was drenched in shadow. Directly in front of him was a large round shape that glowed with a soft red light. It seemed to be connected to three other shapes by a ring of yellow. In its center stood an arch of dark stone, glittering with silver on the outside, but stained a sickly green toward the inside.

Harry gathered his courage, and turned his concentration to the opening in the arch. The dark shape of a man was standing on the other side of the arch, statuesque and imposing. Dark, oily looking smoke was creeping across the floor toward him, and billowing out of the cracked stone in the right column.

Slowly, the shape was moving. It had taken a step toward the arch. Harry's mind was filled with a harsh hissing noise that his mind quickly translated into speech. _Welcome,_ it said, _I have been waiting._

Parseltongue.

"No," Harry said aloud. "It can't be. He's gone. I killed him. He can't come back. No one can."

Harry pushed himself back onto his feet to stand before the thing on the other side of the arch. This was what Grigore had seen. "Stay away," Harry shouted defiantly, "I won't let you do this. I will destroy you."

_I have tasted death,_ it hissed. _Its sting is only a whisper in the symphony of pain I feel. You cannot stand in my way. No wizard can. I will be denied no longer._

Grigore's voice suddenly cut through the dark haze in Harry's mind: "Who is it, Harry? Who do you see?"

"It's Voldemort," Harry gasped. "He's been waiting for me. He's trying—"

"Voldemort no longer exists, Harry," interrupted Grigore. "His soul has been shattered utterly. Even in the world of the dead, he is no more than a ghost."

"But it is— it has to be—" Harry looked through the arch and saw a pair of emerald green eyes glowing as they stared back at him. Grigore's voice drifted through the fog, sounding more and more distant.

"The Veil will not show you truth," he said. "You are seeing only what your mind perceives. Focus your _mind_, not your eyes, and see what truly _is_."

Even as Grigore spoke, Harry watched as the figure stepped forward to stand directly under the arch. Its arms rose and pressed against some invisible barrier formed by the arch. As they pushed against it, green sparks shot out from the inner rim of the stone. In the eerie light, Harry could make out the features of the wizard on the other side of the arch.

"No..." he groaned. His stomach clenched and he felt as though he was about to be violently sick. "No, it can't— How—"

"What do you see now?" Grigore asked.

The figure in the arch was staring at him with a wild hunger. His green eyes were flickering malevolently from under a messy fringe of dark black hair. He recognized the eyes now. He'd seen them so many times before, but never filled with such hatred.

This was what Grigore had seen. But it couldn't be true. It didn't make sense. It wasn't possible.

"It's a lie!" Harry cried out to the darkness "It's a trick! An illusion! It's not— I'd never—"

"You have been deceiving yourself Harry!" Grigore called back. "Haven't you seen it? Don't you feel the others changing? Can't you feel _yourself_ changing? You have grown strong, Harry. Far too strong, and far too quickly."

"It's a lie!" Harry shouted, but he couldn't take his eyes from the face staring at him through the arch. The eyes flashed with fury, and Harry felt pain lance through his forehead. When he looked back toward the arch, he saw a jagged line of fiery red light blazing on the forehead of his shadowy mirror image.

Grigore's voice continued, sounding closer and closer every second. "You are twisting everyone around you to darkness, Harry. Nature always tries to protect itself, and right now, it needs to protect itself from _you_."

"No!" Harry shouted. "It's a lie!" He tried to turn away from the arch, but everywhere he looked, he saw it and the impostor burned into his mind. Then, the figure began speaking in a measured, even rhythm. It was Parseltongue again, and Harry couldn't stop himself from understanding it.

_Across the endless wastes and timeless sands  
Born of atrocity and boundless pain  
With vengeance, rage, and eternal hate  
I come to claim what I have been denied_

Over the chanting, Harry could still hear Grigore's voice: "I can feel the darkness growing within me. I have felt it since the moment you entered this castle. It is as though you are surrounded by a dark cloud and I am powerless to resist breathing it in. The others feel it now, too.

"It has been building slowly, but even you cannot deny seeing its effects. Simply look at your friends. Hermione has become the servant of a power-hungry warlock, and Ronald uses his selfish fantasies of fame to hide from the world. Look at how you affected them even after you separated yourself from them."

Harry stumbled and tried to feel his way across the ground. He needed to get away, but he couldn't tell which way led to escape and which to danger. Everywhere he looked, he saw only glowing green eyes and a vibrant trail of blood flowing from a lightning shaped scar.

_An end to life which never began  
A start to an age which will see no end  
A scar for a wound which long ago healed  
A return of a gift never given_

The chanting echoed in his head, making it throb painfully. He couldn't escape. Grigore was there, but he wasn't helping. He'd turned on Harry, too. They had all turned on him. He should have seen it the moment he returned.

"Only Ginevra has resisted your influence. She has been brought under the darkness and emerged without permanent damage. She is the infinite light to your unquenchable darkness. But her spirit is not unbreakable, and I will not allow you to destroy her. She is the world's last hope for balance, and I will see that she reaches her potential."

"You're wrong!" Harry shouted. "Stay away from her."

_Across the endless wastes and timeless sands  
I come to end what cannot be ended  
To deny others what has been withheld  
And with all my emptiness fill the world_

"Prove me wrong!" Grigore shouted in return. "Save her! Save us all! Cast yourself into the darkness, Harry! Without you, the world is balanced and safe. It is the only way to prevent what you have seen."

Harry spun about, searching for Grigore. He couldn't believe it was true. It was a lie. It was Grigore. He was doing this. He was the Dark Lord. He wanted Harry to kill himself so no one would stand in his way. It had to be Grigore, and yet, Harry couldn't get the chanting out of his mind. Even as he fought to free himself of its hold, a voice from deep inside his consciousness asked how Grigore could be doing it when he couldn't speak Parseltongue.

_Not with the blood of a thousand nations  
Nor the fires of ten thousand cities  
Will the pain of eternity be cured  
Or the hunger of agony be satisfied_

Harry knew he had to get away. Something horrible was happening. He didn't believe what he'd seen. He couldn't. And yet, his disbelief couldn't stop him from seeing his face on the other side of the arch, and hearing his own voice echoing inside his head with a power he could barely imagine.

_Across the endless wastes and timeless sands  
I seek the primal source and final end  
In my shadow, all life is without hope  
In my light, only darkness will remain_

He had to get away. He needed to think. He couldn't think with the chanting and all of Grigore's lies in his head. He needed to escape. He climbed to his feet and backed away from the point where the chanting seemed to be coming from. As he stepped away, the chanting stopped and was replaced by a roaring growl of rage.

"Harry!" Grigore shouted. "There's no time."

Harry forced himself to move faster. He had to escape. But how could he escape from himself? How could he protect his friends if _he_ was the one who they needed protection from? He needed to find Ginny. He knew she was in danger, but how could he ever explain what he'd seen?

"_Harry!_"

Harry's eyes blinked open, then squinted against the bright morning sun. Ginny was leaning over him with a hand on his shoulder and a worried look on her face.

"Wake up, Harry," she said urgently. "Something important is happening."

Harry rubbed his eyes. As he did, he felt his forehead. It was hot and tender. He tried to pretend as though he didn't notice, but when he opened his eyes to look at Ginny, she was frowning at him.

"It's red, as well," she said as though she'd heard his thoughts. "You had a dream, didn't you?"

"Er, a dream?" he stalled. "I— I don't know. I guess, maybe."

Ginny stared at him stonily. "Harry, you were... _talking_." she said. "I may not understand Parseltongue, but I remember what it sounds like, and I recognized some of what you said. You were repeating the same thing you said after looking in the Veil in the Department of Mysteries."

"I wasn't dreaming about the Department of Mysteries," Harry said as he threw his legs over the side of the bed.

"Then what _were_ you dreaming about?" she asked as she rummaged through one of his closets. "Are you going to tell me now? How long are you going to wait?" Ginny turned around and sat down on the bed next to him. Her face was stern. "Harry, I know something is wrong. I was there, too. I saw what happened to Grigore. I've looked into the Veil. It's not over, is it? It was more than just Grigore, wasn't it?"

Harry didn't know what to say, so he simply answered her question: "Yes."

It didn't satisfy her any more than he expected. "What is it, Harry?" she asked. "What is it that you can't tell me?"

"It's complicated," Harry explained lamely. "I— I don't understand it myself. I don't know what I could tell you."

"I'm sure you could think of something if you wanted to," replied Ginny sourly. She threw a set of fresh robes at Harry. "There's no time for modesty. Put those on and get your wand."

"What's happening?" Harry asked as he quickly unbuttoned his nightshirt.

"Tonks is here," Ginny replied. "She said she needs to talk with us about something very important. Since you're still hiding from the rest of the world, the only way you're going to hear it is if you wear this—" she paused to hurl Harry's Invisibility Cloak at him, "—and follow me down to the kitchen."

Harry quickly put on socks and a pair of trainers and stumbled along behind Ginny as he slipped the Cloak over his head. If Tonks was there, she must have brought news from the Order. If the Order had finally gathered together again, then maybe the time would be right to finally reveal himself.

With that glad thought, he invisibly slipped past Ginny and waited by the kitchen door for her. She pushed it open and he silently stepped into the room and crouched in a dim corner.

Ron and Hermione were already sitting at the table. Tonks, however, had been pacing the length of the kitchen, apparently annoying both Ron and Hermione. The instant Ginny had stepped through the door, she had frozen in place and stared at her. Tonks tipped back her teacup and then set it back down on the table with a clatter. Harry noticed something odd about her mannerisms. They were tense and nervous. Whatever she came to say, it wasn't good news.

Ginny walked over to the table and picked up a couple of pieces of toast and began eating them. "Alright, I'm dressed," Ginny announced. "Sorry for making you wait. What did you want to talk to us about?"

"Well, it's... I think— I mean..." sputtered Tonks. She stopped and pressed her hands to her face. "Oh god, how am I supposed to say this?" Tonks sat down and collapsed onto the table. Pressing her palms into her temples, she looked up at Ginny.

"Ginny, you should probably sit down for this."

Ginny remained standing. "Why? What is it?" Tonks looked uncomfortable.

"It's about Harry."

* * *

**Author Notes:**

Thus begins the sequel to 'The Ring of Gold'. Hopefully no one has given up on seeing this yet.

For those of you who are interested in actually speaking with me, I'll be the subject of an Author Chat over at WizardTales on August 5, 2006. See "www. wizardtales. net" (sorry for URL mangling) for more information.


	2. A Secret From the Past

**CHAPTER 2**

**A Secret from the Past**

* * *

Ginny glared across the room at Tonks. "What do you mean? What does Harry have to do with it?" 

Tonks frowned and gave her a sorrowful look. "I'm sorry, Ginny. I know this isn't going to be fair. You've been through so much, and you were just starting to get over... Well, I guess I felt it wouldn't be fair not to tell you."

"What is it?" Ginny asked again, feeling a prickling of worry along her spine. "It's about Harry?" The look on Tonks's face had begun to concern Ginny. Harry had been insisting on staying hidden as long as possible. He had offered little explanation other than Josef's warning about the chance of rogue Brotherhood members.

"Something's happened at Hogwarts and well..." Tonks started to explain. She was looking down at her hands. "We think that Harry might be, er... involved somehow"

"Involved? You mean you think he's alive?" Ginny tried to clarify. She tossed a quick glance over to the corner she'd heard Harry sneaking off to.

"Well... now, I mean—" Tonks stumbled through her words. "It's been a year, and—" Tonks paused and looked up at Ginny. Her eyes were pink and watery. "Oh, Remus should have done this," she said with a quiet sniffle.

"Does this have anything to do with the break-in at the Ministry last week?" Ginny asked.

Tonks lifted her head to gaze confusedly at Ginny. "No..." she answered slowly. "Why would you— Are you going to be alright, Ginny?"

"Yes, I think so," Ginny replied. "Why shouldn't I be?"

"We found—" Tonks stopped as her voice hitched. "Well... we don't know what we've found. Actually—" she interrupted herself "—we know exactly what we found, we just don't know exactly what it means. Or rather, we don't know what it will mean—"

"But you know that Harry's involved?" Ginny commented, hoping to press the conversation in some direction that might force Tonks to say what she couldn't quite figure out how to say.

Tonks moved her head in a vague motion that seemed close to becoming a nod. "Remus and Minerva sent me to find Ron and Hermione. They thought that you two would have the best shot at figuring out just what might be happening. Remus said that I should _be discrete_ around you," she added with a glance toward Ginny. "He didn't think we should tell you just yet. He thought it would only upset you, but— If anything ever happened to him and anyone refused to tell me about something like this—"

"Something like _what_?" Ron finally interjected.

"Something has happened," Tonks said evenly, "at Hogwarts."

Ron, Hermione and Ginny shared bewildered glances as Tonks continued. "It started months ago. I suppose it was two months or so before the end of the Spring Term. Some of the Aurors started... seeing things, I guess," she said with a shrug. "I was the second one to spot, er... it."

Hermione motioned for Ginny to come and sit down at the table. Whatever had brought Tonks to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, it was obviously not something easily spoken about. Hermione poured the young Auror a cup of tea and pushed it toward her. Tonks accepted it thankfully and took brief sip. "No one believed me when I reported it. No one had believed Rodgers either. But then Chatham saw it. He's the Auror in charge of all of us at Hogwarts. After that he had all of us on the watch."

"For what?" Ron asked impatiently. "You still haven't said what _it_ is."

"_It_ is a cloaked figure walking around the Hogwarts grounds," Tonks explained. "No one ever got a good look at it. It seemed to disappear as soon as anyone got close to it. You didn't need to get close to see that it was a man —the shape of a man, at least— with dark hair."

Ginny felt herself twitch involuntarily. Tonks noticed and gave her a sympathetic look. The implication was fairly obvious: they thought they were seeing Harry, but she hadn't been willing to say that they thought he was alive. Hermione started asking Tonks about the sightings but Ginny's mind was elsewhere. Could it have been Harry? He would have been running from the Brotherhood at the time. Was it possible that he had come to Hogwarts to try and find her?

"No, none of the detection spells worked," Tonks said in response to some question from Hermione. "The wards were still up and working. They even tried tracking animals. The only clue we had that we weren't all hallucinating was from a Sneak-o-Scope of all things. One of us had one on patrol and it went off right before one of the sightings. We tried putting Deception Detectors on the gates, but they're next to useless. I think I set them off every other time I pass them. Even Remus sets them off constantly. They have to remove them whenever the Care of Magical Creatures classes are nearby. In fact, they probably spend more time disabled than active."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said gently, "but where does Harry come into this story?"

"Well, none of us really knew what was going on. We had reported it to the Ministry and had been ordered to keep it quiet. The Department of Mysteries sent out a pair of Unspeakables to investigate. If they found anything, they didn't tell us. So, one night while Remus was spending the night in detention with some git who had released a Boggart in the Hufflepuff girls' dormitory, I went to the Burrow just to get away. I guess I was a little frustrated and mentioned it, and well..." Tonks gave Ginny an apologetic look. "Molly told me that you had... _seen_ Harry and thought you were talking to him."

Ginny stiffened, feeling suddenly embarrassed that Harry had heard that. "I didn't— I knew it wasn't him, I just—"

"It's alright, Ginny," Tonks comforted her. "I don't think there's anything wrong with you. I don't think you were hallucinating."

Ginny tried to protest, but Tonks stopped her. "I hope you can forgive us but Remus and I decided to have you followed. He had an idea, and he wanted to know how often you thought you saw... well... Harry," Tonks finished as though it hurt to say the name.

Ginny wasn't sure which was more frustrating: The fact that her friends had been among the numerous people following her, or the disgust at actually wanting to argue that the reason she'd seen Harry was that she really had been almost mental with loneliness.

Tonks, however, seemed to take her silence as sadness instead of restrained frustration. "We knew it was wrong," she said as a mild apology, "and we were about to give up when one of the Aurors from Hogwarts spotted something interesting at a Quidditch match. You remember it, don't you, Ginny? August tenth, I believe. It was your first assignment for your new job."

"I remember it," Ginny said with a nod.

"It was just like the sightings at Hogwarts," Tonks said in a soft voice. "A dark haired wizard in a cloak who disappeared when followed. Of course, we didn't realize the Department of Mysteries was following you as well. I don't blame you for panicking when they tried to catch you."

"But... No... they weren't from the Department of Mysteries," Ginny tried to say. "They were..." Her voice trailed off as she saw the confused look on Tonks's face.

"They were from the Department of Mysteries, Ginny," Tonks assured her. "I spoke with one of them at the Ministry. He said he was sorry about frightening you, but he also said that it would be better if he didn't speak with you at that time. He told me I should send you to see them if you ever came asking about that day, though. Oh, what was his name..." Tonks closed her eyes tightly and tapped at the table.

"Right!" she called out suddenly. "Updike! Roberto or Randolf or something pompous like that. It's pretty rare for Unspeakables to give out their names, but I doubt that was his real name, so—"

"Updike wasn't an Unspeakable," Hermione interrupted.

This news seemed to catch Tonks off guard. "Really? Well... I suppose I might have just assumed he was— but that doesn't really matter. The point was that everyone agreed that we were seeing _something_ and that Ginny had been seeing it as well."

At this comment, Ginny threw another nervous look at Ron and Hermione. Did Tonks think Harry was alive? Why didn't she just say it?

"I spoke with Remus about it," Tonks continued. "I wasn't supposed to, but I did anyway. He's the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor now, and well... I didn't trust the Ministry. At first he wasn't willing to say what he thought, even to me, but once the new term started it began to get worse."

"How soon after the start of the new term?" Hermione asked quickly. "What got worse? Were there more sightings?"

It was Tonks's turn to look confused now. "Hold on," she began. "Do you already know about this?"

Hermione frowned at Ginny. "Reginald Updike..." she began hesitantly, "I— I don't think he works for the Ministry anymore. It's possible that he was, er... responsible for what you saw."

"We didn't just see things, Hermione," replied Tonks, looking very serious. "And we'd have known if some wizard from the Ministry was lurking about. Like I said, after the start of the term, things got worse. In just the first week, at least eight different students had asked about—" Her voice was cut short as she glanced over at Ginny. "They asked if Harry Potter was at Hogwarts."

"Is that supposed to be some sort of joke?" Ron asked.

"No, Remus thinks it's very serious. None of them claimed to have any reason for asking, but even two students in a week would be quite suspicious. Eight is... difficult to accept."

"Maybe they just saw the same person you saw," Ginny suggested. She kept her eyes on the table in front of her, not wanting to betray any of her thoughts to Tonks just yet. Hermione seemed to be troubled and her eyes kept darting over to Ginny and warning her to keep quiet until Harry decided to reveal himself.

"Then, two weeks ago, a number of people started reporting feeling as though they were being followed as they walked about the grounds. Many of them were students. One was the daughter of an under-secretary in Scrimgeour's office. McGonagall spent two days fighting with the Ministry and the _Daily Prophet_ in order to keep it quiet. Even the professors felt it. Remus— Remus saw it too. It followed him on one of his trips into the forest."

"That could still be the same people —or person," Hermione said, quickly correcting herself. "I mean, it wouldn't be hard for someone to sneak onto the grounds and—"

"And avoid detection by hundreds of students, a number of professors and eight Aurors?" finished Tonks. "It's one thing to break into the Ministry and avoid being seen for a couple hours, or even sneak onto Hogwarts grounds for a night or even a full day. This has been going on for _months_, Hermione. Until the attack on Grimmauld Place, we were trying to request extra Aurors from the Ministry."

"And what happened that day?" Hermione asked pointedly. "At Hogwarts, I mean. Did anyone see anything?"

"No," Tonks said, giving Hermione a sidelong glance. "Nothing at all. Remus had an explanation for that. He thinks the attack might have drawn off... whatever was at Hogwarts."

"I think he's right," Hermione declared. "In fact, I'm almost certain of it. The attack on Grimmauld Place, Gringott's and the Ministry were all linked. As were the attacks earlier at Giza and almost certainly the... things you saw at Hogwarts. I'm sorry we didn't speak to you earlier," she apologized. "The three of us have complicated lives at the moment and it's really best that we stay out of sight. The good news is that you won't have to worry about your sightings, anymore. I doubt you'll have any more problems."

Tonks raised her eyebrows and stared at Hermione. "And what would make you think that?"

"So... you've guessed that we were at the Ministry when it was attacked, haven't you?"

Tonks frowned slightly and nodded.

"That was only one part of a long battle," Hermione explained. "It wasn't the end, but it was the last part the rest of the world saw. That's over now. The, er... problem has been fixed. That's why you haven't seen anything since last week."

Tonks sat back and stared at the three of them. Her lips were pressed together tightly and she appeared to be searching for the right response. Finally she leaned forward and let out a deep breath as she ran a hand through her lime colored hair.

"I never said we haven't seen anything," she said slowly. "We haven't tried to request more Aurors because there aren't any to request. There are four wizards missing from the Department of Mysteries, and three more from other departments. Gringott's demanded the Ministry guard the bank while they make repairs and improvements. Two more Aurors are stuck in Romania after some sort of revolt they just had. Things didn't get better after the Ministry attack. They got _worse_."

"But— What are you saying?" Hermione asked, looking suddenly very unsure of herself.

"It's inside the castle now, Hermione," Tonks replied gravely. "Students have reported hearing someone walking about the castle in the night. No one's ever seen anything, though. One of the Aurors tried chasing it, but it disappeared down a corridor that was completely dark. I went to see the corridor for myself. There wasn't even enough light for an owl. Doors have been opened, doors that have been locked by powerful magic. We've found over a hundred broken mirrors throughout the castle. We've locked the rest in a vault in the dungeons but we don't know why."

Ginny stared at Hermione in disbelief while Ron tried to understand what it meant. "But, er— _When_ did all this happen. It wasn't Monday, perhaps—"

"There's more," Tonks continued. "There was... an incident. Last night."

"_Last night?_" cried Hermione as she turned back to Tonks. "That's got nothing to do with us, then. It can't be— What were you saying before? Broken mirrors and opened doors? Are you certain they're related."

"Maybe not," admitted Tonks, "and yet, it's the only explanation that makes any sense. The dark haired figure. Its appearance at the Quidditch match. The students' questions. The sneaking about. Vanishing as if under an Invisibility Cloak. Remus suggested that the broken mirrors might be the result of a frustrated search for the Mirror of Erised. The one thing they've all got in common is Harry Potter."

"It's not Harry," Ginny blurted out suddenly. "It couldn't have been. He's—"

"Are you saying that Harry is alive?" interrupted Hermione before Ginny said anything she wasn't supposed to.

Tonks expression fell back to the sympathetic, concerned look she'd had when Ginny first walked in. "No," she answered simply. "Remus and I have done a lot of talking and he's been searching the Library for days for an explanation, and there's only one that fits." Tonks leaned forward and held one of Ginny's hands comfortingly.

"We think that Harry might be haunting Hogwarts," she announced. "It may be more complex than that, but it seems to be the best place to start."

Whatever response Tonks had expected, the one Ginny gave her was completely unexpected. Instead of crying or shouting or even sitting as still as a statue, Ginny simply looked at her and shook her head. "No, that's not it. It's something else."

Tonks stared consolingly at her. "I know it's hard to accept, Ginny, but—"

"No, it's _impossible_ to accept," Ginny said as if Tonks had suggested the sky was normally a deep shade of maroon. "Harry isn't a ghost. You're wasting your time. Tell Lupin to start looking for something else."

Tonks eyed her warily. "Are you saying that he's not a ghost, or that he's not dead?"

Ginny glanced toward Ron and Hermione and found them both looking away from her rather conspicuously. She turned back to Tonks and found the young Auror watching her carefully. "I guess you could say I haven't given up hope, yet."

Tonks sighed and gave Ginny the same piteous look everyone had given her at Charlie's funeral. She knew Tonks was thinking the same thing she'd heard everyone whispering then: _Poor girl. She's gone through so much. It's perfectly normal for her to hold onto her irrational fantasies._ Of course, like them, Tonks didn't say it out loud, but the translation was the same:

"We should never lose all hope."

Ginny's eyes narrowed and she felt a growl of anger in her chest. "Harry isn't a ghost," she said more forcefully. "I know you fancy him, but Lupin made a mistake. I don't care how good of a snog he is, he's wrong."

Tonks recoiled, releasing Ginny's hands as though they had scalded her. For a moment her cheeks colored, but after closing her eyes for a brief moment, they returned to their previous pale tones. She frowned at Ginny and turned toward Ron and Hermione who were remaining completely quiet.

"Well, I, er—" Tonks stammered. She shook her head and let out a frustrated huff. "Remus is better at this sort of thing. I don't know why he thought this was a good idea." She stood up and smoothed out her robes. "The Headmistress has asked me if you two would return to Hogwarts with me. We can speak more about this when we—"

"I'm going with you," announced Ginny.

Tonks sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Er, Ginny. Neither Remus nor Minerva thought that would be a good—"

"_Remus_ thinks that Harry is dead and haunting the one place that ever made him happy," Ginny shot back. "It seems he's not been thinking very clearly."

Tonks closed her eyes. "Er, Hermione, could you—"

"We'll talk to her," Hermione told her. "Could we have a bit of privacy? It might be a good idea to stand outside for a moment and make sure there isn't anyone watching the house."

"Why would anyone be watching the house?" Tonks asked.

"It's a long story," Ron replied.

With another sigh, Tonks nodded her acceptance and began walking for the front door. Ginny waited silently for the sound of the door opening and then closing a moment later. She walked over to the kitchen door and quickly checked to see that Tonks had really left. When she was satisfied, she closed the door and walked back toward the table.

"Well done," Hermione said with a sarcastic grin. "You managed to appear both unstable _and_ delusional. That's going to make it so much easier to figure out what is going on."

"She thinks it's Harry's ghost!"

"Precisely, and she'll continue thinking that until we figure out what is really happening."

Ginny fixed Hermione with a smoldering glare. "That's what I was trying to _tell_ her. The faster they figure out that they're wrong, the easier it will be to figure out what is really happening."

"Well that's a brilliant strategy," Hermione replied as she put her hands on her hips. "Of course, to the rest of the world, it looks like you're completely mental."

Ginny threw up her hands in annoyance. "What am I supposed to do? Agree with her? Tell her that it's completely possible that Harry is dead and haunting Hogwarts? Maybe I should suggest that the Crumple-Horned Snorkack might be helping him."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well it's going to be a lot harder to convince them you're right if you can't even convince them that you live in the real world."

"She's got a point," announced a bodiless voice from the other side of the room.

Ginny stepped toward the table, snatched up a piece of cold toast and flung it across the room and into the corner where Harry's voice had come from.

"Invisible wizards don't get to talk!" she shouted with a finger pointing at the empty space the toast had bounced off of.

Harry appeared suddenly as he pulled off his Invisibility Cloak. "Was that the last piece of toast? I am a bit hungry." With a scowl, Ginny picked up another piece of toast and threw it at Harry's chest. After wiping the crumbs from his robes, he frowned and began walking toward the table. "Right. I think I'll just get one myself. You three just go about your business."

"Our business?" Ginny choked. "This is _your_ business Harry. What if they start telling other people that your ghost is doing this?"

Harry shrugged. "Well, that's a pretty easy theory to disprove," he said after taking a bite of toast.

"Then why didn't you _do it?_" Ginny asked while pointing toward the kitchen door Tonks had left through moments earlier.

"For the same reason we've been holed up in here for the last few days," replied Harry. "It's not safe until Dragomir has tracked down any of Brotherhood members who might still think I'm a threat."

"So what are we going to do?" Ron asked. "Tonks said McGonagall wanted us to go with her. She found us. It's not like there's much point trying to hide any longer."

Harry finished his toast and nodded his agreement. "Josef said Ginny and Hermione would return to their jobs tomorrow. They've got to come out of hiding to do that. Today seems just as good as tomorrow."

"What about you?" said Ron. "How are we supposed to pass messages to you? It would look a little suspicious if we were sending Hedwig a couple times a day."

"You're absolutely right. That's why I'm going with you," Harry said as he held up the Invisibility Cloak. "Just walk loudly, make sure you speak up and try to give me some warning before you run out of any rooms."

* * *

Ron, Hermione and Ginny filed out of the front door of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place to find Tonks standing at the foot of the steps staring out at the deserted street. Ginny knew that Harry was behind her somewhere, but she couldn't hear his footsteps. When Tonks heard them, she spun around and stared at Ginny. 

"The Headmistress only called for Ron and Hermione," she said weakly. "If we're right, the situation may be a little too... sensitive for you, Ginny."

Ginny gave a shallow smile. "I'll be fine."

Tonks didn't look so confident. Hermione stopped in front of her and spoke in a hushed tone: "We had a bit of a talk with her. She's promised to be a little more open-minded. I think this way is better than leaving her all alone. She's had a rough week."

Ginny rolled her eyes, but Hermione's explanation worked. Tonks nodded reluctantly and motioned for Ginny to follow the rest of them. She led them across the street to the darkened alley they had always used for Disapparation. "Is everyone alright to Apparate to the _Three Broomsticks_?"

"Yes," Hermione replied. "That should work nicely. We'll see you there."

* * *

Ginny arrived outside the _Three Broomsticks_ only seconds after Hermione and Tonks. Ron appeared a moment later with an oddly loud _pop_. He stumbled a bit, then regained his balance. 

"Too much time on a broom?" Tonks asked him with a crooked smile.

Ron shot a glance off to the empty space beside him. "I guess so," he replied with a touch of annoyance. "I'm feeling a bit off today. I didn't get much for breakfast."

Tonks reached into her robes and pulled out a small apple. She tossed it to Ron and began walking down the street. Hogwarts Castle could be seen jutting up into the sky in the distance. Ginny felt an odd feeling seeing it again. It had been seven years since she had first seen it as a student, and this was the first time since then that she'd seen it since she'd left.

In truth, it had only been a few months, and yet it felt so much longer than that. She hadn't been happy to leave. She hadn't been happy at all. So much had changed in a few months. Charlie had died. Harry had returned. She'd been attacked and protected too many times to sort out without the use of at least a few feet of parchment. She had worked for the Ministry, and if Josef could be believed, she would return tomorrow. Hogwarts felt like part of some other life, and yet here she was, returning to the place that had changed her life so completely.

Tonks noticed the expression on her face and smiled warmly. "It feels strange returning, doesn't it?" she commented. "I still panic whenever a professor finds me walking about late at night. Old habits, I guess..." she added with a shrug.

As they left the streets of Hogsmeade and started down the path to Hogwarts' main gate, the number of other people around them tapered off quickly. Though they all knew the way, Tonks took the lead with Ron and Hermione following her. Ginny lagged behind them. As she walked, she feigned interest in mundane things they passed so that she could try and hear any signs that Harry was still following them.

After minutes without hearing a thing, they walked down into a shallow hollow where the path was littered with small pebbles. Ginny sped up, crossing the patch of gravel in two strides. Once on the other side, she paused and pretended to tie her shoe. Behind her, she could just barely make out the swishing of shoes through grass. With a smile, she stood up and began walking to catch up with the others.

Tonks froze ahead of her as Ginny heard a muffled _snap_ from behind her. It sounded like someone stepping on a dry twig. Tonks stepped between Ron and Hermione, signaling for them to remain where they were. "Did you do that?" Tonks asked Ginny. Unable to decide which answer would be harder to justify, Ginny simply shook her head.

Tonks pulled out her wand and strode past her, back to the patch of gravel. As she bent down to inspect the footprints, Hermione flashed a worried look at Ginny.

"Ginny," Tonks called out, "were you the one who walked on the grass?"

"Er, yes," Ginny replied with some concern. If Tonks asked any more questions, it might get difficult to explain herself.

"One through the grass," mumbled Tonks as she traced the footprints, "and... three along the path." She stood and frowned. "Ginny," she called out in a serious voice, "are you certain you haven't seen anything? I know what I said before—" she quickly added, "but I really need the truth right now. Did you see anyone behind us?"

Ginny forced herself to swallow. _It isn't a lie,_ she told herself, but it still felt like one. "No, I didn't see anything at all."

Tonks stared at her for a moment, but appeared to accept the answer. "Do any of you... _feel_ anything odd?" Ginny put on an innocent expression and shook her head again. Tonks sighed and turned around. "Come on. We should go before I'm attacked by my own paranoia."

They continued down the path, and Ginny tried to keep track of where Harry might be, but it was impossible. The area they were walking through was rockier, with only short grass. Harry would be able to walk or run along the stones and they would never have any idea where he was. Tonks hadn't looked back since the brief interruption, but Ginny could tell that she was tense and distracted. It was obvious from the expressions on Ron and Hermione's faces that they had noticed as well.

They crested a hill and their pace slowed. The path to the main gate stretched out before them, but the distance was much shorter than it had been earlier. The castle and lake were now quite near. They could even spot small groups of students walking along the shores of the lake or strolling about the grounds.

"Weird," Ron said with a snort. Tonks stiffened. Her wand was suddenly in her hand and ready to cast a spell.

"Oh, no," Ron said waving his hand dismissively. "It's just, well, it looks just like it did when we were students. I don't know why, but I thought it would look different, you know?"

Tonks relaxed, slipping her wand back into a robe pocket. "It _is_ different," she said with a sigh. "Everything changed after... after that day. Oh, you can't really tell from a distance, but many things have changed and they won't change back." Tonks turned and glanced at Ginny. "We just have to accept it. That's what living is: accepting changes and moving on."

Ginny wasn't sure just how she was supposed to pretend to act. She pulled back the corners of her mouth in what felt like a smile and a frown while she nodded her head. She didn't know just what emotion that was supposed to convey, but Tonks nodded in response and seemed to accept whatever it was.

As they walked toward the main gate, it became quite clear that a number of wizards were waiting for them there. Ginny could see what appeared to be four distinct wizards, all of them wearing robes that looked nothing like the ones the students wore. During her last year, there had never been more than two Aurors patrolling the grounds, even on Hogsmeade weekends. This morning, there were four at the gate alone. No one had commented yet, so Ginny remained silent.

Only a minute later, a pair of the wizards from the gate began walking briskly toward them. Finally Ron spoke up. "They're Aurors, aren't they?" Ron asked quietly, though they were still quite far away. "What are they doing?"

"I don't know," Tonks said uneasily.

"Are there always four Aurors on duty?" Hermione asked. "I thought there were still only eight of you. I mean, when I was here last year, no one was at the gate, so—"

"Did you forget what I said?" asked Tonks. "I can only guess that something's happened since I left. I hope it's nothing serious."

"Whatever it is, they don't seem to be too keen to wait," Ron commented toward the Aurors who were walking quite a bit faster than Ginny had expected.

"Well," began Tonks, "they've been awake for some time. We work in four shifts of eight hours. We work for eight hours and have the next twenty four off to sleep and relax. That way no one gets stuck working the early morning shift every single day. Lately we've been doubling up whenever something odd happens: Sixteen hour shifts with only sixteen hours of rest. It really wears on you. Those two were just about to come off their shift when— when they found _it_. They doubled the next shift with Chatham and Elderbridge. If they're still here, they've been working for the last eighteen hours. I expect they're eager to get some sleep."

"Eighteen hours? What happened? Why is everyone so tense?" Hermione asked. "I mean, it's not like anyone died. It would have—" Tonks's head turned sharply and Hermione cut herself short. "Hold on," she said in a wavering voice. "Did someone—"

"Not yet," Tonks replied heavily. "At least, not when I left, but that was four hours ago. I hope whatever Aberly and Wompleruff are coming to tell us is good news."

Ginny and the rest of them kept walking toward the gate, though in truth their intent was on meeting up with the pair of Aurors now. Tonks was visibly worried as they approached. As soon as they were within shouting distance, they reached into their robes and pulled out their wands. Tonks stopped suddenly and held out her hands to keep Ron, Hermione and Ginny behind her.

"What's happened?" Tonks called out.

"Put your hands out and stay where you are!" barked one of the Aurors.

"Aberly! What is the meaning of—"

"_Hands out!_" he shouted. With a huff, Tonks did as he said and told the others to do the same. The pair of Aurors approached. The one who had been shouting stayed back while the other strode forward to get a closer look at the four of them. He was a younger Auror, with a pointed nose and eyes so dark they appeared almost black.

"The Headmistress sent for _two_ people: Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley," he said sharply. "You've brought _three_ people."

"That's brilliant, Alston," snapped Tonks. "I'm glad that you're able to count so well."

The Auror had stopped in front of Ginny. His wand was lowered, but his hand was gripping it tightly. "We can't let her in, Tonks. We shouldn't let any of you in, but we'll ignore all that if she turns back."

"Do you even know who she is?"

"I don't care if she's the new head of the Wizengamot or Scrimgeour's mistress, she's not getting in," he announced. "Chatham and McGonagall were explicit. No one enters or leaves except Granger and Weasley."

"Open your eyes, you bleeding moron," Tonks replied with one arm pointing at Ginny. "She's Ginny Weasley. No one else knows more about this than she does. If Minerva was willing to let these two in, she'll have no problem with Ginny."

"You're wrong, Tonks," the older Auror called out. "Chatham asked McGonagall about Ginny, and it was decided that Granger and her brother should come, but not her. They were very clear."

"Well I think they should reconsider," Tonks argued. "I've already spoken to her about our concerns, and she wants to help."

"That's very charitable of her. However, the situation has changed since you left. If she wishes to help, she should return to Hogsmeade. I'm sure she'll have no problem finding a place to stay while we speak to the Headmistress."

For a moment Tonks appeared to be struggling with some tough decision. "I can't send her back, Aberly," she finally announced. "You know what she was. I think we were—" Her voice stopped as she glanced back at Ginny, then looked back at the Auror. "I think we were followed."

Aberly frowned. "All the more reason to send her back!" he cried out. "We have enough to deal with. I don't believe that is a talent we have a need for at the moment. In fact, we have every reason to want her to stay away."

"We won't go without her!" shouted Hermione. Ginny found Hermione looking at her from the corners of her eyes.

"You _what_?" replied an outraged Aberly.

Hermione's face hardened. "If you won't let her in, then we'll all wait right here for you to change your minds."

The Auror scowled and tugged mercilessly at his robes. "This is not a _game_ girl. We are not here to _bargain_."

"No," Hermione replied stonily, "we're here to figure out what is happening, and that's not going to happen unless she comes with us."

"Fine!" he barked after a brief pause, "but this decision is on your head, Tonks!"

With quite a few suspicious looks, the Aurors led the four of them toward the main gates. Ginny tried to listen for any sign of Harry behind them but she heard nothing. If he was smart, he would have run on ahead of them. Of course, it was equally likely that he remained nearby where he could hear the argument. Whatever he'd done, he'd been silent about it and gave the Aurors no chance to notice him.

Ginny wondered if it was really worth the secrecy. Whatever had happened at Hogwarts, the idea of his involvement was obviously incorrect. Ginny felt that Harry was only making a potentially awkward situation worse by trying to sneak onto the grounds while the Aurors were already extremely paranoid.

There was no better demonstration of this fact than the scene caused by their arrival at the main gate. After yet another argument and another staunch refusal to leave Ginny behind, they were granted entrance onto the grounds. However, the second they walked toward the gate, a pair of piercing wails cut through the morning air.

A number of students appeared out of the nearby forest. One of the Aurors quickly dashed through the gate to warn them off and send them back to the castle. The other, an old grizzled wizard drew his wand on the four of them and ordered them to step away from the gate.

"Bloody hell, Archibald!" exclaimed Tonks. "You know I set those things off every time I get near them! You'd have more reason to draw your wand if you ever saw a witch who looks like me and _didn't_ set off those detectors."

"What about them, then?" the old Auror questioned. "You might be alright, but what if they're hiding something?"

"Why don't I save you the trouble then? I know they're hiding something!" shouted Tonks. "Why do you think that the Headmistress sent me to get them? They're hiding themselves! They were involved in the attack on the Ministry. They won't even tell me about it, and I can't blame them."

"We lost three good Aurors that morning," the old wizard grumbled. "Maybe we should take a moment to see just what part they played, eh? Maybe the detectors don't like the fact that they've got guilty consciences?" He reached a gnarled hand into his robes and pulled out a small bottle. "Maybe a little Veritaserum would—"

"That's enough, Rife!" the other Auror shouted as he walked back to the gate. "I don't care what the bloody detectors say. We've got bigger worries than a few young wizards and whatever petty secrets they're trying to hide."

With an angry grunt, the older Auror waved them through the gate. Bizarrely, there were no alarms the second time. This seemed to annoy the Aurors even more than having them tripped the first time.

"Think you were followed, do you?" Aberly said in a low voice. "If this gets any worse—"

Tonks stepped close to him and spoke in an equally quiet voice: "—it won't be because of anything we did, Clavius. Those detectors are set off all the time. We haven't been able to stop it before, why would this time have been any different?"

Ginny still didn't understand just what they were talking about, but she was certain that this was not the right time to start asking questions about it. Once they had passed through the gate, the Aurors remained at the gate, following them only with suspicious glances.

"Sorry about all that," Tonks whispered as soon as they were out of sight. "As I said, things are a little tense right now. It sounds as though it might have gotten worse."

"How bad could it be?" Ron asked. "It hasn't stopped the students from enjoying themselves."

He was right. Now that they were closer to the castle, Ginny could see quite a few groups of students out and walking about. Quite a few more than anyone would expect for so early in the morning. It was common for students to sleep well into the late morning for the first few weekends of the term. Even later in the term, few students would spend their mornings walking around outside the castle unless there were Quidditch practices or some sort of event to coax them out of their common rooms.

"Minerva spoke with the professors. They encouraged the students to spend time outside the castle. They closed the Great Hall and blocked off a number of corridors, including the one leading to the Library," Tonks explained over Hermione's horrified gasp. "There really isn't much for them to do inside the castle. It'll make things easier for us once we're inside."

As they walked up the path, Ginny spotted Hagrid's hut. However, it looked quite a bit different than it had only a few months before. It was quite a bit neater and the large garden which used to stand behind it had been replaced with a large fenced paddock and a row of small wooden buildings that looked like small cottages.

As they got closer, she saw a small crowd of girls standing in a circle around a proud-looking centaur. He was not smiling, but he didn't look at all angry either. The girls were twittering, but looked otherwise rather respectful.

"Is that one of the Centaurs from the forest?" she asked quietly. It certainly wasn't Firenze. "Shouldn't someone be, well, keeping an eye on them?"

"Oh, someone is," replied Tonks lightly. As she spoke, a man strode into view carrying a large bow made of heavy wood. His back was to them as he handed it to the girls. They accepted it with a chorus of excited gasps and incomprehensible chatter. They were behaving as though the man was some sort of authority figure, yet Ginny didn't recognize him at all. Instead of robes, he was wearing a pair of worn pants made out of some sort of hide, and his hair was long and tied back in a ponytail. After letting the girls take the bow, he turned and spotted Tonks and the rest of them walking by.

Now that Ginny got a good look at him, he didn't look quite as shabby as she had expected him to be. He raised a hand in salute and smiled warmly. If his hair had been red instead of dark brown, Ginny might have mistaken him for Bill at a distance. Of course, Fleur never would have allowed him wear such pants.

"Oi!" he shouted as he stepped through the ring of girls. "Hold on there, Tonks!" Tonks gave an impatient look toward the castle, but stopped anyway. Hermione and Ron had noticed the man, now and they both turned to watch his approach.

"Oh my," gasped Hermione. "Who's that?" Ron's head turned about so quickly Ginny was surprised to see that hadn't spun all the way around.

"I told you things had changed," Tonks said in a low voice. "This is the new Care of Magical Creatures professor. Hagrid left this summer. He said he needed to take a bit of a vacation."

Hermione watched as the new professor strode toward them with a graceful, loping gate. "He's quite, er—"

"Young," finished Ron. "How much can he possibly know about magical creatures?" he added sourly. "He looks as though he just passed his N.E.W.T.s."

"Hello there!" he cried out as he stepped onto the path ahead of them. "Brilliant morning, don't you think?" he asked brightly as he reached out to shake Tonks's hand. "I was out in the forest this morning and convinced one of our Centaur friends to pop in for a bit and speak to some students. The girls simply adore them, of course." He leaned closer and dropped his voice. "I'd never dare say it, but I wager they don't mind the compliments, either."

"I'm sure you're right," Tonks replied. "However, we must be off. I need to take these three to see the Headmistress."

"Oh really?" he laughed. "It's a bit late for new students, isn't it? This lot looks accomplished enough, though. I'm sure they'll catch right up in no time." He reached out and grabbed Ron's hand, shaking it vigorously.

"My name is Justinian Lynch," he announced eagerly. "Of course, you should call me Professor Lynch," he added as he moved on to Hermione. "I don't like it one bit, myself, but the Headmistress insists." He turned to Ginny and gripped her hand firmly but not painfully so. He smiled and his blue eyes looked into hers. "It's too bad you have to go. I'm sure you would have loved to meet our centaur friend, there. His name's Loreth. Quite a friendly chap when he's not got any pressing tasks at hand. Of course, I do have room for three in my N.E.W.T-level class, if you've got the marks. I was hoping to convince him to come back another day."

"They're not students, Justinian," Tonks announced. "They're here to speak with Minerva on Hogwarts business."

"Oh," he replied with a surprised frown. "I'm terribly sorry. I didn't realize— Well then, would you be willing to deliver a message for me, Tonks?" he asked.

"Yes, alright," she agreed, "but we really must be going. We're late already."

"Yes, of course. I should get back to the students, as well. Could you just tell Madam Desmoda that I found a pair of old dragon bones when I was out in the forest this morning and that I thought that Vink might appreciate them? If she's interested, she can come down and pick them up. Or I could—"

"I'll give her the message," interrupted Tonks. "I'm sorry, Justinian, we really must be off."

"Yes. Right. Of course," he said with a friendly nod. "Off you go then. I'll be out here all day if anyone needs me."

Tonks waved and led Ron, Hermione and Ginny away from the hut. Ron kept looking over his shoulder with an expression of annoyance and confusion. "Where did they find that bloke?" Ron whispered. "I mean, he's a bit irritating, of course, and he's a bit funny looking—"

"Funny looking?" snapped Hermione. "He looks just fine, and I thought he was rather charming."

"Well, I guess if you go for blokes like that, yeah, but that's not the point," Ron replied dismissively. "He's not going to be around long when McGonagall finds out he's been hexing centaurs to show off to the third-years."

"He didn't hex anyone, Ron," Tonks said as she turned off the path to take a more direct route to the main doors of the castle. "The centaurs have been much friendlier lately, especially with the wizards at Hogsmeade and the students here. It's still a fragile thing, but it's a step in the right direction."

"What changed?" Ginny asked, unable to put aside her curiosity. "They were mostly quiet last year. I don't think I heard anything about them."

"Then you weren't listening to the right rumors," replied Tonks. "It's the same old story. Bane forbid all interaction with humans, but it seems that centaur foals are just as obedient as human children. One of them had been sneaking off to the edge of the forest to watch the wizards at Hogsmeade. One night last winter, a witch from the _Three Broomsticks_ broke her leg while walking near the forest and the foal walked out to help her. They fell in love, as young people are so good at doing."

A faint smile played across her lips. "It was a scandal for the centaurs, and the Hogsmeade wizards didn't know what to think, so they just kept it quiet. If he had been any other foal, I'm certain the centaurs would have hunted him down and killed him, but it was Bane's own son. Faced with the choice of losing his son or attempting to make peace with the wizards, he chose to keep his son."

"Bane's son fell in love with a witch?" Ron asked incredulously. "And she loves him? I've got nothing against the centaurs, but she must've had pretty poor luck in blokes to fall for one of them."

"I guess you'd know more about that than I do," Tonks replied with a chuckle. "The witch's name is Lavender Brown. I think you know her." Ron gagged. "I believe they have a small cottage just inside the forest. I've never been there, but I hear it's a nice place."

"Lavender?" Ron gasped again. "And they live together? But that's— I mean, I don't mind, but— I—" he stammered, then composed himself. After a moment of silence, he spoke up again.

"So, er... how do they... you know..."

Tonks turned to glare at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Right, so who's this Madam Desmoda?" Ron asked, quickly changing the subject.

The expression on Tonks's face changed suddenly. Her eyes narrowed and an instant later her hair had darkened and fallen into a silky sheet of midnight black hair. She turned to face Ron, blinking a pair of large, pale blue eyes. "Oh please," she replied in a soft Spanish accent, "call her _Valencia_," she mimicked.

A second later, Tonks was back to normal —or at least no more abnormal as she usually was— but her voice had taken on a strange tone that Ginny couldn't quite put her finger on.

"_Valencia_ is the new librarian," Tonks continued. "She's _so_ happy to be here, she simply loves it. Her last job for the _Biblioteca de la Magia Antigua_ was getting so boring."

Ron and Hermione shared a confused look. "And she likes dragon bones, does she? That's a bit odd," commented Ron.

"No, Vink likes bones," explained Tonks. "Vink is a dire wolf. Very rare. She went all the way to the Americas to find one. It took her a year to find one. _Valencia_ loves dogs, you see, especially wolves. Can you believe that? A _young, Spanish, librarian_ who loves _wolves_?"

Ron looked confused. "Right," he replied while staring at Tonks as though she was losing her mind. "It's appalling, really. What was McGonagall thinking?" he commented sarcastically.

Tonks narrowed her eyes and Hermione rolled hers. "Ignore him," she said in a disgusted voice, "he's not terribly bright."

Ron looked insulted but knew when it was time to keep his mouth shut. The four of them walked across the last courtyard in a tense silence. The main doors to the castle were closed tight without anyone left outside to open them. Before they had a chance to ask her just how they were supposed to get in, Tonks had walked up to the door and pounded her fist on it with a surprising amount of force.

She turned and walked away, her eyes still filled with annoyance. Before she'd gotten far, the courtyard echoed with a loud _creak_ and the doors slowly parted to reveal the torch lit Entrance Hall. Standing in the gap between the doors was a tall wizard with short, grey hair and a shorter witch with auburn hair tied up behind her head.

"You're late," announced the tall wizard. "Dawdling with Lynch, were you?"

"No more than necessary," Tonks replied sharply.

"No amount of wasted time is necessary, Nymphadora," the witch replied.

Tonks gritted her teeth. "You two know how he is. He's a nice wizard and a responsible one," she responded. "It's his job to watch the grounds just as much as it is ours. He thought he had three new students. What was I supposed to tell him? That something horrible had happened and I didn't have half a minute to explain three guests I was escorting to the castle?"

"Nonetheless, more haste would have served us better than more secrecy now," the wizard replied. "I'm afraid that we were unable to convince Gawain Robards to delay his weekly inspection of our work here. We might be able to put it off until this afternoon at the latest. We will need every moment between now and then to try and understand just what is happening here."

"Then why are we still talking?"

"Quite right," the Auror replied. "We should go. The Headmistress is waiting. I'll leave it to you to explain why you've ignored her orders to not bring Ginevra."

* * *

Tonks led Ron, Ginny and Hermione down corridors and up staircases, ignoring all of their requests for information. Early in their journey, she had told them that students were still walking about the castle and no one other than the Aurors and only a few professors knew what was truly going on. The others had merely been told that was something which was being dealt with. It explained the frivolous nature of their conversation with Professor Lynch. 

As they walked, Ginny's mind was trying to focus on twenty things at once. They'd gone up two flights of stairs already, but they didn't seem to be headed toward any of the towers. As far as she could tell, all corridors that didn't lead to one of the bathrooms or common rooms had been blocked with translucent, shimmering barriers.

As Tonks had told them, none of the students seemed to be terribly worried about the fact that so many corridors had been barricaded. There were many rumors she heard them whispering to each other, but none could explain the urgency the Aurors seemed to be expressing. At the moment, the most distressing events in the castle seemed to be the arrival of three former students without any explanation. A few of the students had taken this to be a sign that it was more than some escaped creature and more likely the discovery of some new secret passage. Ginny doubted it was either.

Finally, there was the concern over Harry. Ginny felt certain that he was still following them. She would have sworn that she heard the soft tap of his shoes on the stairs behind them as the climbed the third staircase. However, it was a lot easier to stay hidden on an open, rocky field than a castle filled with unpredictable drafts and even less predictable students. Her heart beat strongly in her chest as she waited for one of the Aurors to suddenly spot him.

They approached a corner in the corridor and found one of the glowing barriers blocking their path. On the other side stood Professor Flitwick. He paused for a moment, frowning slightly. Then with a wave of his wand, the wall disappeared.

"Good morning, Tonks. Good morning to you as well, Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley," he greeted them. "I would wish Miss Weasley a good morning as well, but I'm afraid she won't be with us for long." After they had passed, he swirled his wand and the barrier rebuilt itself.

They followed Tonks down the corridor. It was a corridor Ginny had only faint memories of. She didn't know what could have happened. None of the rooms at this end of the third floor had been used for years. Of course, that didn't explain why she had been there, either. Some part of her memories told her that it was something she wasn't proud of. Had this been where she and Dean had first kissed? It wasn't her worst memory, but it wasn't one she enjoyed reliving.

They turned one last corner and saw something truly odd before them. It was another barrier of sorts, though this one looked quite a bit less permanent. It appeared as though a thick curtain had been hung across the hallway blocking all sight of the end of the corridor.

Tonks reached the curtain first, and gently parted it. She stepped through and turned to see that everyone followed her. Ron was next. Then Hermione. As Ginny approached, she realized that the curtain was uniquely able to prevent the passing of wizards being hidden by Invisibility Cloaks. As she reached the curtain, she opened it much wider than she truly needed. She stepped forward slowly, hoping that if Harry was following, he'd thought of some way of handling this obstacle.

As she passed through the opening, she felt a pair of hands press against the small of her back. She took a few more steps and then came to a halt. There was a faint scuffle of shoes on dusty stone, and the warmth of Harry's hands disappeared. Standing not more than ten feet from her was Minerva McGonagall, looking rather cross. Remus Lupin stood behind her. He looked tired, but not unhappy to see them. Neither of them gave any sign that they'd noticed Harry.

"Welcome back," Lupin said gently. "I must say that I'm glad to see you all, though I wish the circumstances were less serious."

"Yes, it is reassuring," admitted McGonagall, "though I believe I said that Miss Weasley should not have been involved in this." Ginny bristled and opened her mouth to speak, but McGonagall raised a finger to quiet her.

"It is no insult, Ginny," she said in a more kindly tone. "I feel that this is a mystery uniquely suited to Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley. I felt that you might find this to be a little too... familiar. I didn't want to upset you. You shouldn't have to be involved with this. I did it for your own safety."

"Let me worry about my own safety," Ginny replied. "She said that you thought Harry was involved, but you think he's dead, don't you?"

"We don't know what to think," Lupin corrected her quickly. "There is only one thing which is common to all the occurrences over the past few months, and yes, that is Harry. We have some guesses, but— well, we just don't know. We hoped that perhaps Ron and Hermione would be able to discover anything that we have missed."

"Why us?" Ron asked. "Why would we spot something where eight Aurors and a school of professors failed?" Lupin stared back at him with an expressionless face.

"Because you did last time."

Lupin stepped aside and pointed down the corridor. The black curtain had blocked out most of the light, but there was still enough to see that there was something odd about the wall further down the corridor. Ginny found herself drawn forward. She stepped between Ron and Hermione and walked closer. Something was glistening on the wall. A chill ran down her back as torches flared to life on either side of her.

"No. It's not possible," Ron mumbled in disbelief.

However, the reality in front of Ginny didn't care about Ron's opinions of what was possible. She tried to tell herself that it had been some tasteless joke. A hundred students had seen it. It could have been any of them. And yet she could _feel_ that it wasn't a joke.

Daubed across the wall in dripping red liquid were words that Ginny had only ever seen in her nightmares:

_The chamber of secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware.

* * *

_**Author Notes:**

This is a taste of what is to come. This story is going to be less action-based than the previous one, but slightly more cerebral. Hopefully this sounds interesting to everyone. If not, well... it's too late to complain.

For those of you who are interested in actually speaking with me, I'll be the subject of an Author Chat over at WizardTales on August 5, 2006. See "www. wizardtales. net" (sorry for URL mangling) for more information._  
_


	3. Corridors and Rooms

**CHAPTER 3**

**Corridors and Rooms**

* * *

Ginny felt as though she was about to be sick. The corridor about her seemed to fade into the background while the words smeared across the wall blazed, branding themselves into her eyes. _No. It can't be,_ her mind screamed, _It can't be happening again._ Her legs felt weak. She stepped away from the wall as the nightmares flooded into her thoughts. 

She still remembered the sound of Tom's voice, the smooth timbre hiding the cruel malice underneath. It was enticing and dangerous at the same time, like the honed edge of a knife. She hadn't wanted to do as he had told her, but she couldn't resist. She had tried, but it was far too late by then. She wasn't in control. She hadn't wanted to do it. It wasn't her. It had been Tom. He made her do it. There wasn't anything she could do. Her skin felt cold and clammy as she remembered laying catatonic and helpless on the damp floor of the Chamber, bait for a boy she was hopelessly infatuated with. Guilt wound around her throat, choking her. It wasn't her. She'd tried. She'd fought. Tom had forced her.

"No! It wasn't me!" she heard herself shout.

"_Obscuro!_"

A sheet of black cloth popped into existence and dropped down in front of the wall. Lupin strode in front of it, still holding his wand but staring at Ginny with a caring expression.

A pair of hands grasped her shoulders, wrenching her away from where she had been standing. "We know it wasn't you, Ginny," Hermione told her in a comforting voice. "Relax. You're not alone. That was seven years ago. You're safe now. It's just... it's just a message. Nothing more."

Professor McGonagall was by her side an instant later, ushering her away from the scene with a sympathetic expression on her face. She pulled open the black curtain they had passed through earlier. Once on the other side, she crouched down in front of Ginny.

"I'm afraid that was somewhat worse than even I expected," Professor McGonagall admitted. "Certainly, once should be more than sufficient to experience such things."

Tonks and Lupin were next to walk through the curtain. Tonks looked pale and a little shaken. Lupin was much more composed. He silently handed a small object to her, then stepped forward and offered something similar to Ginny. It was a square of dark brown chocolate. "It works better when the demons are outside one's own mind, but it can't hurt," he said quietly.

"I'll be alright," Ginny croaked, though she took the chocolate anyway. "I just didn't—" She stopped, trying to collect her thoughts. "It was as though it had been copied from my dreams. For a second I thought this was—"

"I assure you, this is most certainly real," said Professor McGonagall.

"As real as any hoax can be," remarked Hermione. "It was just some... paint or something, spread across a wall in the same location it had been seven years ago," she said, sounding less certain of herself the more she spoke. "It's nothing more than that is it?"

Tonks, Lupin and Professor McGonagall exchanged troubled glances.

The cold truth slipped into Ginny's mind. It would be easy to hide a simple thing like a bit of vandalism from the Ministry. It would be harder if this was simply the only remaining evidence of a much larger crime. When they were walking to the castle, Tonks had implied that someone had been injured.

"There was an attack, wasn't there?" Ginny asked. "Someone was attacked back there, and... whatever attacked them, left that message." Silence confirmed her suspicions.

"They weren't killed, but were they petrified?" Hermione asked pointedly. "Were they Muggle-born?"

"I'm afraid it's a little more complex than that, Hermione," Lupin replied calmly.

"Were they?" she responded sharply.

"In this case, yes, but that could simply be a coincidence. We need to think before we jump to conclusions. We don't know if the Chamber has anything to do with this, or if this is —as you said— just a message."

"It can't be the Chamber," Ginny said with an even tone. She was still trying to keep a firm grip on her emotions. "The Basilisk was killed. The Chamber was sealed. Dumbledore did it himself. Even if he hadn't, no one would be able to get in. Only a parselmouth could open it. The Diary was destroyed. So are the rest of the horcruxes. Tom is dead and he was the last descendant of Slytherin. The only other parselmouth the world has seen in a century is—"

She stopped before speaking the final words, but it didn't matter. It was clear from the looks on the faces of Lupin, Tonks and Professor McGonagall that they had reached the same conclusion hours before she had arrived. Involuntarily, Ginny's head turned to search for Harry, but she only saw Ron, who had been standing under the black curtain, holding it open for seemingly no reason at all.

"Perhaps we should discuss this in my office," suggested Professor McGonagall.

* * *

Professor McGonagall led all of them away from the black curtain and back toward the stairway to the second floor. Harry hesitated for a moment, wishing he had more time to look at the wall. None of them had turned back to look for him. They wouldn't have been able to see him, of course, but all along the way from Hogsmeade Ron and Ginny had been trying to keep track of him. 

That thought was the only thing urging him to follow them. Ginny knew he'd walked around the stony patch in the path. Ron knew where he was standing on the other side of the curtain. Of course, both of them knew he was under an Invisibility Cloak and had used one themselves. Still, if they had been able to spot him so easily, it was possible that someone else might. And even though he was confident that he could break whatever barrier Flitwick had cast, he couldn't do it without making it obvious that someone had. The last thing he needed at the moment was Aurors searching the castle for him.

Running on the balls of his feet, he caught up to them just as they reached Flitwick. Harry slipped past them silently, then stood silently against the wall as the barrier was replaced and they walked past him on their way to the staircase.

There were at least two other ways he might get from the third floor corridor to the Headmistress's office. The one that Professor McGonagall was leading them on was the most public one and therefore the most dangerous one for Harry. He hesitated again at the top of the stairs. He could easily slip off and take the back stairs all the way to the first floor and be waiting for them when they reached the gargoyle.

Lupin chose that moment to begin talking about the Aurors. Harry quickly decided that the greater risk was worth the chance to hear anything Lupin or McGonagall might discuss. He crept down the stairs as quickly as he could.

Despite all the times he'd done this before, it was rather challenging to try and walk quietly while paying attention to everything that was being said and trying to remember which steps were noisy or jinxed. As though that wasn't enough, he needed to try and think of just what he was supposed to do if the gargoyle in front of McGonagall's office wouldn't let him pass.

Nonetheless, he did a good enough job that he was able to catch most of what was being discussed ahead of him. They didn't discuss anything about what had happened in the corridor, rather they mostly discussed the Ministry and what the Aurors at Hogwarts were trying to do to help out.

For the most part, the eight Aurors who had been permanently stationed at Hogwarts seemed to be a good bunch. It sounded as though McGonagall herself had been given some choice in the selection, and had picked a set of Aurors who were less influenced by the desire to do as Scrimgeour and Gawain Robards, the Head Auror at the Ministry, wanted them to. As a result, they were all working to try and hide the most recent developments from the Ministry until Professor McGonagall had a chance to truly understand what had happened.

This plan could only the delay the inevitable, however. Every Sunday morning, Robards would show up and speak with McGonagall and Ian Chatham about any issues that had come up recently. According to Tonks, they had tried to keep the suspicions about someone sneaking about the grounds a secret. Over the summer the son of some Ministry official had made some comment about overhearing the Aurors talking about it and within days Robards had been asking about shoddy guard duty.

They had managed to convince Robards to delay until the afternoon by claiming that the centaurs had wished to speak with the Headmistress. They hoped that they might find either some answers or excuses to give Robards by then. Personally, Harry felt it was a weak plan. After everything that had happened at the Ministry, the Auror office wouldn't be able to risk being embarrassed by yet another public mistake. If a student had been attacked, the Aurors would certainly seek to find someone to blame it on.

That had to be the reason for the urgency he'd seen in everyone's actions. It also might explain the reason behind the attack. Seven years ago, the attacks had been enough to have Dumbledore removed as Headmaster. While more than capable, Professor McGonagall didn't wield the respect or political power that Dumbledore had. Even a few attacks would be enough to have her removed.

More students were walking about the second floor. From his vantage point, he could see the looks they were giving the Headmistress and her guests as they passed. With a smile, Harry remembered that rumors spread through the students with a speed that rivaled the flying memos at the Ministry.

Ginny had left Hogwarts only a matter of months ago, and Ron and Hermione were so well known that they were recognized by even the second-years who had never walked down the same corridors with them. The rumors the students were spreading now were quite different from the ones they'd been sharing when they'd walked in.

Now there were whispers of burglars and pranksters. More students knew Ron as the brother of Fred and George Weasley than as the friend of Harry Potter. Ginny's presence seemed to confirm the suspicion that Fred and George had slipped into Hogwarts to play one more prank.

Others had latched onto the idea that no one had seen or heard from Professor Flitwick since the previous evening's meal. Everyone knew that the Weasleys were good friends of the Headmistress. They argued that it was completely logical for Professor McGonagall to call on some former students to help her search the castle for the missing professor.

Of course, neither of these was even remotely close to the truth, though since neither was terribly harmful, the professors were doing nothing to stop their spread. Disproving them would only encourage the students to start looking for other answers.

As they came to the foot of the last set of stairs, Harry began to wonder why the students hadn't noticed the most important thing. Lupin said someone had been attacked. Why didn't the students know? They had noticed Flitwick's absence. Why wouldn't they notice a missing student? Perhaps Harry had been wrong to assume it was a student. Who else could have been attacked?

Ginny, Ron and Hermione reached the doorway to McGonagall's office before he was able to think of any convincing answer. The Headmistress whispered something and opened the door for everyone to follow. Harry's heart sank. He couldn't risk trying to walk between them on the way up to the office. He knew that Ginny would tell him whatever they discussed, but he didn't enjoy the thought of finding somewhere nearby to hide while they talked. He couldn't even search the castle because he had no idea when they would be finished. The usefulness of being invisible was beginning to disappear.

The rest of them filed through the doorway. Ginny had shuffled to the end of the line. She cast a disappointed glance about the corridor as her hands rifled through her robe pockets. Ron and Hermione were moving slowly as well. They didn't know where Harry was, and he had no way of telling them.

McGonagall urged them forward silently. Ginny stopped to tie her shoes, but there was nothing Harry could do. Professor McGonagall was still standing right in the doorway. Ginny stood up quickly and stepped through the door. As Professor McGonagall pulled the door shut behind her, Harry spotted something twinkling in the torchlight. He stepped forward to take a look at it.

He recognized it immediately. It was a simple ring of gold passing through three evenly spaced spheres of silver. It was still on its chain and lying on the stone where Ginny had stopped to tie her shoe. Harry knew it had to be a sign or message of some sort, but he couldn't figure out just what she was trying to tell him.

A moment later, the door swung open only a few feet away from him. He shot up on his feet, nearly tripping over the hem of the Invisibility Cloak. To his surprise, Ginny was standing in the doorway. McGonagall was watching her from the third step behind her. Instinctively, Harry stepped to the side, hiding just around the corner of the doorway.

"I swear, I just had it," announced Ginny. "It must have fallen out of my pocket as I tied my shoe. It should be— there!" Ginny stepped forward, opening the door even wider as she stretched to pick the necklace off the floor.

The door was open and completely unobstructed. Ginny must have known exactly what she was doing. He hoped he was right. Taking a deep breath, he slipped around the corner and froze. Professor McGonagall was looking directly at him. Slowly, he stepped to the side and slid into the smallest of corners just inside the doorway. McGonagall's eyes had not followed him. They were still fixed on Ginny. Harry held his breath and hoped Ginny would not bump into him as she walked back through the door.

"I'm sorry, Professor," Ginny apologized. "It's just— well, I didn't want to lose it."

"That's quite all right, Ginny," replied McGonagall. "However, you might consider practicing a bit more care with the handling of your jewelry."

Ginny stepped through the door slowly, allowing it to close behind her. She took a cautious step forward, avoiding Harry by more than a foot. After another step she paused. Harry took the opportunity to reach out graze her arm with a cloaked hand. Her mouth twitched in response and she began climbing the spiral staircase with a little more confidence.

Harry waited a few seconds and then followed her. The others were just reaching the doorway at the top and Professor McGonagall was stepping around them to unlock the door. Harry picked up his pace. He hoped that McGonagall would not be so careful at the other door. Even if she would be, he would still be able to listen at the door.

His luck held. McGonagall led everyone into her office, leaving Ginny as the last to enter the room. Just as he had at the black curtain, Harry ducked down and placed his hands on the small of Ginny's back. Following only inches behind her, he was able to slip into the room without anyone noticing.

Professor McGonagall's office, while occupying the same room, looked quite different than it had when it was Dumbledore's office. The silver trinkets were all gone, replaced with more respectable looking shelves of books and ancient-looking artifacts. Harry quickly pressed himself into an empty corner and waited for everyone else to find a place to sit.

* * *

Professor McGonagall walked across her office and calmly sat down at her desk as though this day were no different than any other. Three soft chairs were placed in an arc facing her. With a flick of her wand, she summoned up two more, and the previous three jumped to life, shuffling aside to make room for their new companions. 

Lupin and Tonks took the two leftmost chairs. Ron walked to the very rightmost. Hermione sat next to him, leaving Ginny to sit in the middle between her and Tonks.

"I must apologize again for the manner in which you had to learn of this," began Professor McGonagall. "I know none of you have pleasant memories of that year, but I'm afraid we do not have the time to do it with the appropriate sensitivity. In just five hours, Gawain Robards will be here to discuss any strange occurrence over the past week, and I'm afraid this would absolutely qualify as strange."

"Lie to him," suggested Ron. "Dumbledore did it all the time, didn't he?"

"I am not Albus, Ronald," replied McGonagall with a hint of annoyance. "Dishonesty is an easy path to step onto, but a difficult one to leave. Nonetheless, I have used it in the past, but I am not the only one who Robards will be talking to. Certainly you don't expect me to order all of my students to lie as well?"

"Well, they don't know anything, do they? What could they tell him?" argued Ron.

"They know that many corridors have been blocked off," she said. "They know that all of the Aurors had been woken up and that you three were called here. You were not the only students to pay attention to the world around you, and many managed to do so while earning much better marks than you did, Mr. Weasley."

Seemingly out of habit, Hermione raised her hand. McGonagall turned to her and simply waited. After a moment of embarrassment, Hermione dropped her hand and began speaking.

"If bringing us here looked suspicious, then why did you do it?" she asked.

"For the very same reason I said earlier," replied McGonagall. "I hoped that you might be able to help us find answers before the Ministry begins asking questions. Honestly, I hope that I won't have to explain this to you every ten minutes."

"No, what I meant was: What made you believe that we would have any better chance than more Aurors or other members of the Order?"

The Headmistress sighed and her lips tightened into a frown. "If I trusted the Aurors to handle this correctly, I wouldn't have any reason to fear Mr. Robards. Sadly, I do not," she added with finality. "I cannot believe that you of all people are unaware of the growing link between the Aurors and the Department of Mysteries. There was a reason why they have been kept separate all these years. I no more wish to become a pawn for Auguste Reynard than I do for Rufus Scrimgeour, yet if I put my trust in the Aurors, those will be my only options."

She pushed her chair back, stood, and paced over to the window. "I chose the _two_ of you for reasons that should have been obvious. The last time this happened, you two had a part in solving it. I had not considered Ginny due to the fact that she didn't remember so much of what happened. Though now I believe that she might be an asset if certain... liabilities can be overcome."

Ginny concentrated on keeping her annoyance hidden.

"I understand that," said Hermione, "but I still don't see why that makes any difference. Ginny's right. The Chamber was sealed. It couldn't have anything to do with whatever happened. I know of at least three different hexes which look indistinguishable from the effects of seeing a Basilisk. One or two of them are simple enough that a number of the seventh-years could probably cast them."

Lupin sat up in his chair. "I do not mean to belittle your knowledge, Hermione, but I doubt that you know of any Petrification Curses which are new to me, yet I have not seen anything like the spell which was used on Miss Franklin."

"It was a girl?" Ginny asked suddenly.

Tonks and Lupin looked at each other for a moment. "Yes," Lupin answered cautiously. "Her name is Miraphora Franklin. She is a—" He paused as Tonks shot a quick glance at him. "She's very young."

Ginny felt odd for a moment. She had assumed this was the work of a pair of immature boys who let a joke go too far. It wasn't as if she hadn't been a part of her fair share of her brothers' jokes, but somehow it just felt more serious.

"But—" began Hermione hesitantly, "if that's true, this couldn't be the work of a Basilisk."

Lupin stared back at her. "I don't think anyone truly believed it was."

"Wait," Ginny said while trying understand the implications of this statement. "You mean you never believed that the Chamber had been reopened?"

"I am fairly confident that it has not," answered Lupin. "However, in this case, I don't believe that the Chamber of Secrets has any bearing on the current situation."

"Perhaps you should start from the beginning, Remus," prompted Professor McGonagall.

After taking a deep breath, Lupin began talking. He explained the strange sequence of occurrences which had started before Ginny had even taken her N.E.W.T.s. For the most part, it was little more than a more detailed account of the things Tonks had already told them. Ginny found the explanation only mildly interesting in the places where he spoke about seeing the strange figure following her about the grounds.

Ginny could not honestly remember seeing anyone following her, or even getting the feeling that the Aurors were paying any more attention to her than normal. She had noticed that they recognized her, but it seemed much more likely that they were simply acknowledging the fact that she had been dating Harry.

It couldn't have been Harry, she concluded. Over the last few days, Harry had been pretty open about his actions over the last year. He had been more secretive about the time he'd spent with the Brotherhood, but the events Lupin was talking about would have happened well after Harry had left.

Once the story had progressed beyond the end of the Spring Term, Ginny started finding it harder and harder to concentrate. It was easy to see the pattern that Lupin was trying to lay out. The first sightings had been linked to Ginny, and once she left the number of sightings decreased and all but stopped shortly after she'd taken the job with the Ministry.

They had only picked up just before the start of the Fall Term. Lupin commented that he suspected it might have happened because whoever or whatever they were seeing was expecting Ginny to return to Hogwarts. The implication was pretty clear: Lupin thought the figure they'd been seeing was Harry's ghost.

Knowing he was wrong, Ginny instead focused on trying to think of just what they really had been seeing. Harry had said that he tried to keep track of her throughout her seventh year at Hogwarts, but he'd also said that he specifically avoided even going to Hogsmeade for more than a few minutes at a time. Could he have been avoiding it because he suspected the Brotherhood would be there? Were there any wizards in the Brotherhood skilled enough to avoid eight Aurors for all that time? She decided that she would have to ask Harry about it later.

She sat back in her chair and let Lupin's words drift through her mind. It might have been more interesting if she didn't know that he was completely wrong. He was telling them about the students who had spontaneously asked their professors about Harry. He had taken this as strong proof that Harry played some role in whatever was happening. Ginny however felt it was just as likely to have been the result of eight Imperius Curses as members of the Brotherhood searched for Harry.

Ginny perked up a little as Lupin talked about the day the four of them had invaded the Ministry. His perception of the events was, like so many other of his theories, well thought-out but false. It seemed that the Department of Mysteries did not want to reveal the fact that they had not lost Voldemort's wand in the June attack, and instead they claimed the most recent attack was planned by the Death Eaters to assassinate Reynard. Lupin guessed that it was a lie, but he thought that the Death Eaters had been trying to get to the Death Room for some reason.

She wanted to correct him and tell him just what had happened. Ginny recognized a similar look on Hermione's face. It would be difficult to explain just what happened and how they were involved without revealing that Harry was alive and standing somewhere in the room. As Ginny looked about, trying to guess where Harry might choose to sit, she realized that Professor McGonagall was pacing about the room. She looked to be deep in thought and yet oddly aware of her surroundings. Wherever Harry was, she hoped he would be paying enough attention that McGonagall wouldn't end up bumping into him.

Lupin began talking about the first clues they had that someone had been getting into the castle. This was much more interesting to Ginny as Lupin had been explicit that it had started Tuesday night. That would have been immediately after the horrible events in Romania. If any of the Brotherhood members were still stalking about Hogwarts, then they probably posed a risk to Harry. Perhaps he'd been right to keep himself hidden.

"Remus," McGonagall called out, interrupting his explanation of one particularly strongly charmed room which had been broken into. "Do you _feel_ anything odd in this room?"

"I, er— I don't know," stammered Lupin. "I guess not. I didn't get any sleep last night. I can't imagine you did, either. I've been feeling a little drained all day, though I am encouraged now that these three are here."

"Perhaps you're right," McGonagall replied. She paced about a little longer, and Ginny realized that she wasn't pacing as much as she was _searching_. Did she know that Harry was in the room? Would she be able to find him? If she did, would it really be all that bad? McGonagall turned to flash a suspicious look at Ginny.

Ginny quickly turned around and focused on Lupin. He was just getting to the interesting part. He told them that Miraphora Franklin had left his class to go to the Hospital Wing on Thursday morning. He had thought nothing of it at the time. Then, Friday, she had been sent back by Fiona Stanton, the new Potions professor. Professor Stanton had said that Miss Franklin had looked quite sick. Madam Pomfrey had apparently agreed as she had ordered her to remain in the Hospital Wing that night.

Sometime Saturday morning, Miraphora had been allowed to leave the Hospital Wing a second time, but she had been ordered to report back after the evening meal. She had been seen in the Great Hall during the meal, and a number of students said that she was looking much better. However, when she returned to the Hospital Wing, Pomfrey had again ordered her to remain in the Wing for the night.

Later that night, she slipped out of the hall. No one knew exactly when it had happened, but Madam Pomfrey claimed that she had been checking on her regularly. Before the Aurors could even begin trying to figure out where she'd gone, one of the Ravenclaw prefects had found her lying in the corridor Ron, Hermione and Ginny had just been shown.

As soon as the Aurors saw what had been written on the wall, they called for the Headmistress and the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. "They had not yet moved the girl when I arrived," Lupin explained. "Though I hoped I was wrong, when I first saw her lying there, I took her for dead. Once I got a closer look, I admit that my first thought was that she had indeed been attacked by a Basilisk. However, that was obviously not the case."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Because of how she was petrified, or the fact that Harry killed the Basilisk years ago?"

Lupin stared at her, seemingly ignoring her comment. "The scene felt... contrived. It had meaning and purpose. The writing on the wall was only part of the message."

"What message were they trying to send?" asked Ron. "There's only so many ways you can interpret 'Enemies of the Heir, beware'."

"I don't think the sentence on the wall was truly important," explained Lupin. "As I said, it was just one part of some bigger design. The Aurors called me because they noticed it as well. It didn't look like the scene of an attack. It looked like... like someone had deliberately _created_ it."

Lupin and Professor McGonagall shared a worried look. She frowned and nodded to him. He looked over at Ron, Hermione and Ginny and began speaking in a slow, controlled tone.

"The girl, Mira, was found wearing black robes. That shouldn't be remarkable, but we found the robes she wore that day were still in the Hospital Wing. She must have left wearing little more than a dressing gown, and yet at some point she changed into robes."

"Perhaps she just wanted to get out of the Hospital Wing," offered Ron.

"Perhaps," Lupin said with a nod. "For now, we should consider all possible explanations. However, it would seem odd to change into robes and yet remain walking around without any shoes or socks. Of course, that was only the beginning." Lupin's eyes found Hermione. "She was carrying a mirror," he told her, then turned to Ginny, "—and a diary." Seeing the expression on her face, he quickly reassured her that it was nothing more than a standard diary. The symbology, however, was not lost on her.

"It appears that she was the one to write the warning on the wall," he continued, now looking at Tonks, who was staring at the floor. "She is also a Muggle-born, as I said before. She's young— a first year," he said with some effort, "and she has long, red hair. She's the only one in the school who does."

Ginny felt her blood run cold. It was as if someone had tried to make some macabre collage of all the attacks during her first year at Hogwarts. So that was the real reason why Professor McGonagall and Lupin had asked for only Ron and Hermione. The attack could easily be seen as a threat against Ginny.

Lupin began speaking much quicker. "I know how it looks, but if I thought you were in any danger here, I would have sent you back immediately. I cannot be certain just what happened or why, but if I were to guess, I would say that of all people, you have the least to fear."

"You think it's Harry, then," Ginny growled.

"I think that it's a possibility we should consider," Lupin replied in a calming tone. "It's been a year, Ginny. He faced the most powerful dark wizard the world has seen in millennia. Voldemort knew the darkest of magic, and he showed no hesitation to use it. I've found a number of descriptions of rituals and dark artifacts which could be used to turn wizards into ghost-like spirits. It is a horrible thing to do, but so far it is the only explanation I've found for everything we've seen."

"The only explanation?" Ginny replied, trying very hard to keep her cool. "Why couldn't this girl have done it all herself as some sort of prank?"

"Miss Franklin's wand was left at her bedside," commented Professor McGonagall. "She is by no means a poor student, but I can think of no student who might be able to cast such an exotic Petrification Curse, much less do it without a wand."

"What about the prefect then?" Ginny asked. "What was he doing walking about the castle at midnight? Why don't you suspect him?"

"We did," replied Tonks. "He was the first person we thought of. Aberly spent three hours with him. He apparently gave the poor bloke a dose and a half of Veritaserum. Nearly sent him into convulsions, but he never got any confession. Chatham is an experienced Legilimens and he said he couldn't find any evidence that the boy had any part in it."

"Remember, Ginny," Lupin said softly, "the last time this happened you were a first-year. Everyone who could have seen this has left the school. Neither of these students experienced that. Why would they even think of doing such a thing? How could either of them re-enact it so closely that you almost believed that it was genuine?"

"And as for why he was walking about the castle," McGonagall said, "he had asked permission to spend the last two nights on the Astronomy Tower. He has fallen behind in his studies over the past week. His father was one of the Ministry employees who disappeared after the attacks last Monday. He said he saw strange lights coming from the corridor and went to investigate. When he saw Miss Franklin, he turned and ran to find the nearest Auror. Mr. Lipton has always been very honest. I see no reason to doubt him."

Ginny felt herself twitch at the name. She turned and found Hermione sitting stiffly in her chair and staring back.

"Lipton?" Ginny repeated. "The boy's name was Lipton, and his father worked for the Ministry?"

McGonagall nodded. "Yes, Marius Lipton. His father was—"

"Marcus Lipton," finished Hermione. "He worked in the Department of Mysteries."

From the look on Hermione's face, it was apparent that they'd stumbled across the same explanation. If Marcus Lipton were still alive, it was possible that he was one of the rogue Brotherhood members. It might have been some clumsy plan to bring Harry out into the open.

"Marcus Lipton is alive," Ginny announced.

This seemed to startle Lupin and McGonagall. They both turned to stare at her. "And how do you know that, Miss Weasley?"

It was time for Ginny, Ron and Hermione to share an uncomfortable look. Hermione was the first one to speak. "We don't, of course, not for certain," she said. "However, I think that it's more likely than not he's simply been hiding." Lupin perked up at the news and was quick to ask just what Hermione thought he might be hiding from. "I don't think I should say," she replied, "—not yet, at least." She paused for a moment. "You don't suppose..." she began rather hesitantly, "...that someone might have slipped past the Aurors, you know, someone from the outside?"

Lupin blinked at her thinly veiled suggestion. "It is possible, of course," he admitted. "Though I must point out that this still does not answer all of our questions. There is the mystery of the _diary_," he said, tossing a glance at Ginny. "Unless Ginny has been using the story as a way to create new friends —and I honestly doubt that— then there are precious few people who knew it even existed." Lupin began counting them off: "You three, Sirius, Molly, Arthur, the three of us, Dumbledore, and Dobby."

"And the Malfoys!" Ron called out.

"Yes, of course," agreed Lupin. "Dumbledore died long ago, telling no one but Sirius, Minerva and I. Sirius died even before then. Dobby knew more, perhaps, than any of us but he too is dead. As for the Malfoys, they have been watched constantly for well over a year."

"But they could have told any number of people. There are still loads of Death Eaters—"

"Yes, there are, Ron," interrupted Lupin, "but I strongly doubt any of them were here last night. The castle was locked securely as it is every night, and I do not think that any of them could sneak past the Aurors in daylight. If they could, I'm certain they would have done it long ago and accomplished quite a bit more than petrifying a single student."

Ron, Hermione and Lupin continued their debate about who could have gotten into the castle and how. The only possibility they never mentioned was the use of an Invisibility Cloak. Ginny tried to pay attention to them, but she was more interested in actually figuring out what was going on rather than arguing about silly details. Ginny already knew it couldn't be the Malfoys or anyone they had told.

She had caught a knowing glance from Lupin earlier in the conversation. She understood now why Lupin had thought it was Harry's ghost. There were no other options. Whoever had set up the scene in the third-floor corridor hadn't followed directions or listened to a well-told story. The message on the wall didn't only have the same wording, the size and placement were the same as well. No one else could have possibly known, but Ginny had even recognized the shape of the writing. It was easy, since it was written in the very same writing that had appeared in her dreams so many times.

Whoever had attacked the girl hadn't just _seen_ the message when Mrs. Norris had been petrified, they had _memorized_ it. They had known about the Diary. They had found a student who looked like Ginny and dressed her just as Ginny had been dressed when she had been taken to the Chamber. Ginny knew what would happen if she mentioned this. It would only make it seem even more likely that Harry was involved.

More than anything, she wanted to talk to Harry. She wanted to know if he'd seen anything else that they'd missed in the corridor. She wanted to ask him if any of the Brotherhood wizards had been told about the Diary, or if he'd ever shared his memories with any of them. There had to be some other answer that they weren't thinking of.

"There are still more questions we haven't even started to answer," argued Hermione. "Instead of trying to figure out who could have gotten past the Aurors or who would know about the Diary, we should be trying to figure out who would know a Petrification Hex that Lupin's never seen before. I suspect that's a much smaller group of people. Whoever it is, I doubt that was the first time they've cast it. We might check St. Mungo's for any record of a witch or wizard with similar effects."

"We already did that," remarked Tonks. "Nothing in the last three years. When we described it to the Healers there, they said it sounded more like the result of an encounter with some creature."

"Well that's something, isn't it?" Hermione replied. "We can start looking for anyone who's been going about looking for a Basilisk or how to make one."

Lupin shook his head. "Anyone asking for a Basilisk would draw quite a bit of attention to themselves very quickly, even in Knockturn Alley. And even if it were possible, it wasn't what was used here. I never saw any of the Basilisks victims, but Miss Franklin doesn't even look properly petrified. I'd say it was more like some sort of coma or sleeping curse."

"So it wasn't a Basilisk," Hermione conceded. "Could it have been some similar creature? I remember Bill saying there was a creature from Egypt which also petrified its victims. They were used to guard tombs."

For the first time that day, Lupin appeared to second guess himself. He sat up in his chair and looked about the room. "I had not thought about that. It is possible there are relatives of the Basilisk which might cause similar but distinctly different effects." Lupin stood up and paced around his chair. "Perhaps it could be the venom of some other snake. They would be easier to obtain and transport. Possibly even small enough to send into the school by owl. Perhaps we should allow Justinian to take a look at Miss Franklin."

"Professor Lynch is still very young, Remus," warned McGonagall. "If we let him see her, we will have to tell him everything. Do you think we can trust him?"

"He's a good wizard, Minerva," Tonks spoke up. "He's here because he loves the school. He won't do anything to endanger it."

"He's also spent three of the last five years in Egypt," added Lupin. "If he can identify Miss Franklin's symptoms, we would have something to tell Robards when he arrives."

"Very well," Professor McGonagall said with a nod. "Tonks, would you go fetch our Care of Magical Creatures professor?"

"Now?"

"We have no time to lose." Before Tonks even made it to the door, Professor McGonagall had turned to Lupin. "Remus, would you fetch our Librarian?"

Tonks froze in her place and whirled about. "There's no need for that," she called out quickly. "I'll fetch her as well."

McGonagall frowned. "Tonks—"

"It's no trouble at all, Minerva. I've done much trickier things than fetching staff members."

"I'm certain," the Headmistress replied, "but at the moment I am in need of speed not efficiency. If I needed someone to bicker with Valencia, you would be my first choice, now go!"

Tonks stared back at McGonagall with her lips tightened into a pale line. Without a word, Lupin stood up and quickly walked over to her. With a comforting hand on her shoulder, he led her out of the room, leaving Ron, Hermione and Ginny alone with Professor McGonagall.

When the door had closed, she walked in front of her desk and looked down at the three of them with a hint of disapproval. For a moment, Ginny felt as though she was about to lose points for Gryffindor or be subjected to some sort of detention. Of course, it was an absurd thought. McGonagall couldn't punish her or Gryffindor if she wasn't a student. Could she?

"The three of you have been behaving rather differently than any of us expected," McGonagall announced. "Though you've been presented with evidence which strongly suggests the involvement of a young man which you all cared for, you have not sought any explanation which does not include Harry Potter."

The three of them looked at each other, but said nothing.

"The last month has been quite eventful, hasn't it?" she continued. "Exactly one month ago, Molly Weasley was nearly incoherent with grief over the death of her only daughter. We didn't find out until the late afternoon that you were still alive, and even then it was only second hand. Then you were attacked again and this Liaison business began. I can't even tell you all the rumors I've heard. However, there is one I find most troubling. Were the three of you involved in the recent attack on the Ministry?"

Ginny and Ron both looked toward Hermione, who looked annoyed at them for doing so. Taking the cue, Hermione answered: "Yes, I suppose. We didn't really _cause_ the attack, but we didn't really prevent it, either."

"You simply joined in on it?" questioned McGonagall. "I am terribly disappointed in the three of you. That was a horribly stupid thing to do. I can scarcely believe that you, Hermione, would allow such a thing. I suppose, then, that you were also involved in the attack on Grimmauld Place, a full wizarding battle which took place in full view of a hundred or more Muggles?"

Hermione nodded hesitantly.

McGonagall let out a disgusted snort. "Have you all lost every last bit of your sense? Ministry wizards were _killed_ in those attacks. Do you know what the Ministry will do to you if they decide you were somehow responsible for anything that happened in the Department of Mysteries? You didn't tell _anyone_ about the attack. What makes you think they won't simply throw you in Azkaban while they decide who to blame?"

"I think we've got a pretty convincing argument," replied Hermione as she reached into her robes. With a single graceful movement, she drew out a long wand made of a dark wood. It looked as though it had seen many years of hard use.

"And whose wand is that?" McGonagall asked, knowing it was not Hermione's.

Hermione offered the wand to her. "This is the wand of Tom Riddle." McGonagall recoiled as if the wand had become a venomous snake. "I had been working with it for the last year. It was stolen from me, and I retrieved it."

McGonagall's eyes kept flitting between Hermione's face and the wand. "Can I assume that your actions in the Ministry were done in some effort to secure its return?" Hermione nodded as she slipped the wand back into her robes. "And Ginny and Ronald," the professor continued, "how are they involved?"

Hermione cautiously began relating a heavily edited version of the events which had happened over the last few weeks. She deftly avoided making any mention of Harry or the fact that anyone else had been involved at all. Ginny was surprised both at how easily Hermione was able to deceive McGonagall and how easy it was to completely leave Harry out of the story.

Not only did Hermione leave out any mention of Harry, she omitted any specific mention of the Brotherhood. McGonagall seemed to understand that there was another secret group of wizards other than the Death Eaters. She even correctly assumed that it was this group of wizards who was responsible for the attack on the Burrow. In the end, it looked only as if Ginny had stumbled across a plot to steal the wand and earned the anger of some rogue group of dark wizards.

When they were interrupted by a knock at the door, McGonagall's face was covered with an expression of amazement. "I think we best finish this discussion later," she announced. "I believe there is much you are not telling me and the Order will no doubt be very interested in learning more about this new group of wizards. You would not be hiding from them for no reason. They seem as much of a threat as the Death Eaters. For now, however, we must put it aside and deal with the more urgent task at hand."

McGonagall strode over to the door, casting a suspicious look about the room as she walked. When she opened the door, Ginny was surprised to see Tonks and Professor Lynch waiting outside instead of Lupin. It was obvious that Tonks was just as surprised as Ginny to find that they were the first to return. When McGonagall couldn't provide an explanation of what had held Lupin up, she turned around and made a motion toward the door.

"There is no need for that, Tonks," McGonagall reassured her. "I'm certain Remus will be here momentarily."

"Then it won't take me long to find him," Tonks replied. She spun around and took a step toward the door, only to stop short. Lupin was just stepping into the doorway.

"Who are we looking for?" he asked.

"You," replied Tonks pointedly. "What took you so long?"

"I could not simply walk away from the Library," chimed a voice from behind Lupin. A slender woman glided into the room. Her long silky hair was as black as the night sky, with small braids tied together with sparkling gems which hung like stars around her face. Her eyes were nearly as dark as her hair, setting her ivory skin in stark contrast. She had spoken with a pleasantly soft Spanish accent. After smiling kindly at Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, she turned to face Tonks again. "Like you, Nymphadora, I cannot simply walk away from my post."

"Why not? Minerva ordered the Library closed."

"Yes," the woman responded, "so that I might focus my time on researching instead of helping students with their studies. When Remus found me, I had just run across a most interesting myth. It described a wizard who had been killed and left a magical imprint upon his wand. After the second attack on your Ministry, I thought it might be of interest to Remus."

She paused awkwardly, staring off into a corner of the room with a bemused look on her face. With a start as though she had awoken from a daydream, she turned and smiled again at Ginny and the others. "Forgive me. I'm sure it is not so important that I should have waited to introduce myself."

Closing the distance between the doorway and Ron with both speed and elegance, she offered the back of her pale, delicate hand to him. Not knowing precisely what he was supposed to do with it, Ron held it limply, and shook it clumsily. She laughed brightly. "My name is Valencia Desmoda," she announced. "Of course, you may call me Valencia," she added in musical tones. Behind her, Tonks scowled and rolled her eyes.

"I have heard much about you from Remus," she continued as she bowed toward Hermione. "He said that you and I would get along quite well," she told her. "I used to work at the _Biblioteca de la Magia Antigua_ in Barcelona. It is one of the most prestigious magical libraries in all of Europe. I'm certain that someone in your position must have heard of it."

Hermione nodded. "Of course. I've never been there, but—"

"If there is time, I shall take you there," Valencia chimed. "It is a magnificent place. However, its majesty seems to attract the most arrogant wizards. It was the enormous collection of knowledge that attracted me. No one told me I would spend my days sorting books for wizards who refused to allow anyone else to tell them where to find their answers."

"Are you done?" interrupted Tonks. "We do have a bit of a deadline."

"Patience, Nymphadora," replied Valencia softly. "It would be a crime to ignore Ginevra Weasley. Of course, she prefers to be called Ginny. That is what he calls you, isn't it?" Ginny just stared back at her in shock. "You love him, don't you? I can see it in your eyes. It is an honor to meet you." She bowed deeply and flashed another friendly smile. "I do hope that we get a chance to speak later." Ginny blinked at her in bewilderment. Was she talking about Harry?

"I'm afraid Tonks is right, Valencia," McGonagall said. "We don't have much time. I may have something new for you to search for."

The Headmistress summoned another pair of chairs and ushered Justinian and Valencia toward them. Once they were seated, she began explaining the events of the last few weeks. Ginny, Ron and Hermione watched in passive silence.

Valencia appeared to accept it much easier than Justinian did. As McGonagall explained, his expression slipped closer and closer to outright disbelief. The Headmistress stopped him from asking any questions, saying that he should simply wait until everything was explained. When Valencia failed to show any reaction to the news that they thought someone (or something) had slipped into the castle, Justinian turned to her and interrupted the Headmistress.

"Is none of this surprising to you? Did you know this was happening?"

"Yes, I did," she replied softly without taking her eyes from Professor McGonagall. "I have been helping Remus look for explanations and defensive spells for two weeks now."

"For two weeks?" he gasped. "Professor Lupin was told about this weeks ago and I was just told now?" He sounded more hurt than angry. "Is there some reason— I could have helped, if I'd known. Two weeks! Why, there are all sorts of things we could have tried."

"I understand your position, Justinian," McGonagall said in a calming voice. "You must try and understand ours. You are a new professor. You are young. While you have learned an amazing amount since you left Hogwarts, eight years is still not nearly enough to convince others of your trustworthiness. I, however, am convinced you are an honest wizard, and the Aurors trust me."

McGonagall continued explaining, finally reaching the events of the previous night. Only then was there any change in Valencia's expression. It was obvious that she had not been told of the attack. Still, her reaction was more subdued than Justinian, who stared at McGonagall with an expression of deep concern while his hands toyed idly with one of the chains hanging about his neck. By the time Professor McGonagall was finished, he appeared to be deep in thought.

"Despite the similarity to the earlier attacks, this could not have been done by a Basilisk," he commented quickly. "The Hogwarts Basilisk was the only one of its kind to be seen in over a century. I don't think any of us will live to see another. That, in itself, is a good point. Miss Franklin is very much alive and not truly petrified, according to your description. She did not see a Basilisk."

"Could it be anything else?" asked Hermione.

"Well it would have to be, wouldn't it?" he replied distractedly. "Professor Lupin, could you describe _exactly_ what her symptoms were?"

Lupin closed his eyes in thought for a moment before answering. "She was completely still. I took her for dead until I tried to lift her. Her limbs were stiff, yet bendable. I suppose it felt rather like her body was _tense_ rather than truly petrified."

"Did she react to you at all?"

"I... don't believe so," answered Lupin. He didn't sound at all certain of himself. "I realized that she was alive when I heard her faint breathing. I thought she might be trying to say something, but no matter what I did she gave no response. She was breathing as though someone had put some immense weight on her chest."

The younger professor stared up at the vaulted ceiling. "There are other creatures which can cause symptoms very similar to petrification. For instance, the breath of the Smoke Nagas of southern India has been known to cause severe convulsions in children. Some have died. However, I haven't heard of a case where the victim was unconscious. There is a lizard native to Borneo whose bite can paralyze, but that would not explain the stiffness in the limbs. Of course there is also the Guardian Asp of northern Egypt. It paralyzes its victims by staring at them for a short period of time. Some have even suggested that the Basilisk was bred from Guardian Asps using dark magic."

"Exactly," Hermione called out triumphantly. "What if it was a Guardian Asp? Would someone be able to send one with an owl?"

Justinian shook his head. "I doubt it."

"Why not?" Ron asked. "How large are they?"

"It's not a matter of size," replied Justinian. "They don't exist. They are just a legend made up by the wizard cults of ancient Egypt. They wanted to keep other wizards out of their tombs so they made up stories of snakes that did all sorts of nasty things to people who broke into tombs."

Ron was undeterred. "Right, but if they _did_ exist, how big would they be?"

Justinian frowned. "From my studies, they would be about six feet long and as flat as the surface of a sandstone block." He shook his head. "They are just stories, Mr. Weasley. The wizards claimed that the Guardian Asps would do all sorts of things to anyone upsetting their rest. Usually they would just paralyze you and devour you slowly over decades, but sometimes they were said to turn you into a hideous snake-like creature or even kill you and leave their tombs to take revenge upon your family. None of it is real. The only Guardian Asps ever seen were painted carvings on tomb walls."

Hermione and Ron both looked disappointed.

"Is there nothing else?" prompted Professor McGonagall.

"Nothing which actually exists," Justinian replied. "There are other creatures which have venom or slime which is toxic enough to paralyze a young witch, but you're not really interested in doxies or cave fish, are you? I was under the impression you were expecting any creature involved to be rather snake-like."

Lupin shrugged and nodded.

"Well then, I can think of only one creature which can cause the effects you described."

"And what is that?" asked McGonagall.

The young professor smiled. "Wizards. Nasty pieces of work, some of them. They can easily be the most fiendish creatures I've ever had to deal with. That's why I started studying magical creatures. At least I know what to expect of a Basilisk. A wizard, though—" he paused to pull out his wand "—give them one of these and there's nothing too evil for them to try." After a moment of tense silence, he continued. "If you want my opinion, you should be looking for curses, not creatures."

This statement didn't seem to surprise Professor McGonagall at all. Almost as if she'd already come to exactly the same conclusion. Without any hesitation, she turned to Valencia and began discussing the difficult task of trying to figure out what curses could have been cast on Miss Franklin. As Valencia was quick to point out, the task would be very difficult since they had no idea how many curses she might have been hit with and how many of them might have failed.

They had not given up on the possibility that there was some other explanation and Lupin didn't seem to be very eager to devote the rest of his day to looking for hexes when he was convinced they would be better served by trying to understand why it had been done and why Harry was involved. For the most part, McGonagall seemed to ignore him.

"I have no problem searching for curses and hexes," Valencia said. "It is an intriguing bit of research. However, no matter what I find, there is always the possibility that she was struck with a single miscast curse. The caster might have intended nothing more sinister than a simple sleeping charm, but the unfocused magic of partially trained wizards has been known to produce wildly unpredictable results. Without any idea of the caliber of wizard we're dealing with, the possibilities are nearly endless." She cast an encouraging glance toward Lupin. "If we are dealing with a ghost, then the possibilities are greatly reduced and we might be able to find the counter-jinx."

This earned her a thankful expression from Lupin and a blistering glare from Tonks.

McGonagall checked a watch in her pocket and shook her head in frustration. "Will the three of you be able to remain here and help us?" she asked imploringly. "In good conscience I can only have a pair of Aurors helping at any time. Three extra wizards would help quite a bit." Ron, Hermione and Ginny nodded in silent agreement.

"Very well, then," announced McGonagall sharply. "What will we need to begin our research?"

"I would like very much to speak to Madam Pomfrey and see the girl for myself," commented Valencia. "We will need to know what potions she has been given and what affect they have had, if any."

"I think we should speak with Mr. Lipton again," added Lupin. "I'd like to see if these three have any questions which he might not have thought to give answers for last night."

The Headmistress flashed him a reproachful glare. "Remus, the boy's father is missing. He hasn't been sleeping well. He's been through so much lately—"

"Yes he has," he interrupted her, "and I'd think that he would be as interested in finding an explanation as we are. It may be that he was unwilling to say something because you are the Headmistress and he is a prefect. Perhaps he will be more willing to speak with me and the three of them," he said, indicating Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. "We might be able to use whatever knowledge they have of his father to make him feel a little more relaxed. I'm sure that he remembers something that can help us figure out what the meaning behind the attack was."

"At the moment, Mr. Lipton is preparing to rejoin his fellow students for the noon meal in the Great Hall," explained McGonagall. "I'm afraid we will have to wait until Robards has left until we speak with Mr. Lipton. However, we should be able to fit a visit to the Hospital Wing in before the meeting."

With that she quickly led them all to the door. Ginny tried to make her way to the back of the group, but Professor McGonagall didn't let her. Ginny cast a worried glance behind her, worried that Harry might end up locked in the Headmistress's office all day. It didn't matter. There was nothing she could do. McGonagall had pushed her through the door ahead of Ron and Hermione, saying that she had more questions for them.

Ginny tried to look uninterested in anything going on behind her, but it was all a lie. If Harry was left in the office, there would be no way that he would be able to rejoin them. It was actually a worse fate than simply being left in the empty corridor below them. Perhaps Ginny had made a mistake in sneaking him through the doorway. A sharp noise echoed down the stairwell. The door to the office had been closed and locked.

* * *

Harry had moved quickly once he saw them making their way to the door. There were even more of them now, and it would be that much harder to avoid them. He was afraid that he had made a mistake coming up to the office when Professor McGonagall had begun pacing about her office. She had looked as though she were searching for something. Maybe she had heard him breathing or perhaps she'd noticed the noise as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. When she had stopped searching, he allowed himself to relax a little. 

Then Tonks and Lupin had brought Justinian and Valencia into the office. Despite standing less than eight feet from Harry, Justinian had not given him any sign that he suspected another wizard was hiding in the room. Neither had Valencia, though Harry was quite a bit less comfortable around her.

From the second she'd walked into the room, Harry felt as though he was being watched. She had only looked in his direction for a few short seconds, but it was long enough to unnerve him. When they began leaving the office, Harry slipped over toward the door. He was eager to leave the confined space and find someplace easier to hide and listen. He had considered remaining where he was and listening to McGonagall and Robards discuss the state of Hogwarts, but it was outweighed by his desire to speak with Ginny.

He had planned to try and slip through the door ahead of Ginny, but McGonagall had given him no opportunity. It appeared almost as though she were suspicious of Ginny and her behavior at the foot of the stairs. Harry's hopes of slipping out of the office undetected dwindled.

Then, quite suddenly, an opportunity presented itself. As Tonks held the door open for Lupin, the new librarian had stepped forward and bumped into him. For a few seconds they had stopped to laugh at each other and work out just who was supposed to go first. Harry took his chance and slipped around the corner and began walking down the stairs as quietly as he could.

Valencia ended up walking somewhat behind him, always leaving plenty of space between herself and Professor McGonagall. Harry started to feel a little suspicious of her, but it wasn't worth the time. He needed to follow Ginny, no matter where she was going. At the foot of the stairs he deftly dodged Professor McGonagall as she stood guard over the door. After Valencia, Justinian and Lupin stepped into the corridor, she closed the door and locked it. Harry felt relieved to be on the right side of the doorway.

The walk to the Hospital Wing was silent and uneventful. A steady stream of students were entering the main door and heading straight toward the Great Hall. They whispered as the group of former students walked by. Harry enjoyed that for once, it was Ron, Hermione and Ginny who were the subjects of rumors and not him.

Upon reaching the Hospital Wing, McGonagall rapped on the doorway three times without any answer. Suspecting that Madam Pomfrey had simply taken an early lunch, she unlocked the door and began walking into the wide hall.

"No!" cried a frantic Madam Pomfrey. "You must not come in! It's too dangerous! Leave! Now!" When McGonagall was slow to do as she had been told, Pomfrey ran out from around one of the sets of curtains brandishing a wand.

"Go!" she shouted again. "Until I find out what is causing this, the Hospital Wing is off-limits to everyone."

Finally taking the hint, McGonagall turned about and led everyone back through the doorway just as Madam Pomfrey was aiming her wand at the doorway. The moment the doors closed, there was a flash of light and a shuttered window appeared in the upper section of the door. The window opened a short while later. Through the opening, Harry could see that she had tied a large white cloth around the lower half of her face so that only her eyes were visible between it and the simple white hat she wore.

"I'm terribly sorry, Minerva," she replied, "but I cannot allow you in to see Miss Franklin. I've been forced to discharge all of my other students. There are... new symptoms."

"What sort of symptoms?" McGonagall asked.

Pomfrey gave her an impatient sigh. "The stiffness in her limbs has lessened but—" she looked about nervously "—her skin seems to be... changing. At first I thought it was just a bruise but— I am afraid that she might be contagious."

This news left McGonagall looking visibly upset. "Are you certain? How many students might have been exposed?"

"I don't know, Minerva," she replied. "I don't even know if it truly is a disease. I've tried every remedy and antidote that I can think of. I don't know how much more I can try without causing even more harm. I am forced to admit that this is beyond my skill. Her only hope may be St. Mungo's."

"Why haven't you contacted them already?" asked Valencia, sounding rather irritated.

Pomfrey scowled at her, and would have replied but McGonagall answered for her: "She has not because I told her to tell no one of the attack. I was hoping we might avoid revealing the full nature of this attack to Gawain Robards, but I see now that there is no way for us to avoid that."

"We don't have to give up yet, Minerva," Lupin told her. "An outbreak of a wizarding disease is still less threatening than someone or something spreading a wizarding disease. Tell Robards about the disease, but remain silent on the full circumstances of how we found her. That should buy us enough time to figure out why someone has targeted Hogwarts."

With a huff, McGonagall nodded. "Very well. I suppose that is reasonable." She told Madam Pomfrey to send a message to St. Mungo's immediately and then she turned away and motioned for everyone to follow her. As she walked, she told them that there wasn't much time before Robards was going to arrive at Hogwarts. She had decided that she would see him immediately instead of allowing him to speak with the Aurors first. With any luck, she would be able to keep him from speaking to too many of the students. The thought of a disease at a school should be enough to capture his full attention. She might even be able to explain the encouraged evacuation of the school that morning.

There was a problem with what exactly should be done with Ron, Hermione and Ginny. Valencia and Lupin left immediately to return to the Library. A very annoyed Tonks left a moment later. Her shift started in just a few short hours and she wanted to get an hour or two of sleep and a good meal. She fully expected to be working another double shift.

McGonagall told them that she had wished they could have helped Valencia and Lupin but she didn't want to have to explain their presences to Robards. Instead, she took them to the Room of Requirement and instructed them to wish for a place that would keep them fed and occupied for a few hours.

Ron, Hermione and Ginny had all slipped into the room while Harry waited under the Invisibility Cloak nearby. When McGonagall had gone, he paced back and forth along the corridor, hoping that he and Ron had wished for the same thing. To his relief, when he turned around, he saw a heavy door in the wall. He walked over to it and knocked softly, hoping that no one else would happen by while he waited for someone to open the door. Ginny opened the door almost immediately and peered out at him with unfocused eyes. He slipped past her and pulled off the cloak, motioning for her to close the door. Once it was firmly shut, he cast a quick Silencing Charm on it, followed by a simple spell that would sound an alarm if anyone else returned and tried to enter.

Harry didn't like the idea of being holed up in a room for a number of hours while everyone else tried to figure out what was going on, but he liked the idea of being separated from Ron, Hermione and Ginny even less, and the prospect of a day without food didn't sound all that pleasing either.

The room had everything McGonagall had told them they would need. Hermione, however, was still disappointed by the results. Despite her protests, Ron had been the one to open the door. As a result, the room contained more things along the lines of chessboards and Exploding Snap decks than rows of books. There were books in the room, but Hermione scowled at Ron when she realized that almost every last one of them was written about Quidditch. Ron simply shrugged.

The four of them tried to discuss the attack, but they quickly found that there was little that they were saying that had not been said once —or or even twice— before. Both Ginny and Hermione seemed disappointed by the fact that Harry didn't have any more information for them.

Harry didn't know what other information they expected him to have. He could easily see why Lupin had expected that he was involved. While he had taken the shock of the appearance of the third floor corridor better than Ginny had, he now understood the implications. Someone had attacked the girl in a way that was certain to bring Harry and the events of his second year at Hogwarts back into everyone's mind.

He suggested that Marcus Lipton might be involved. This, too, was no surprise to the other three, though none of them were able to think of any reason he might have wanted to do it. There was one possible answer. It had been quite effective at drawing them out of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Was there some other event waiting to occur? If Lipton wanted to draw him out, he had gone through quite a bit trouble to do it.

Ginny was quick to point out that this still didn't explain how the scene had been reproduced so quickly. Harry hadn't really considered it. He had told Josef that Ginny had been brought to the Chamber of Secrets in her first year, but he had never mentioned the Diary. Not even Grigore had ever asked or been told about the Diary. None of them had seen it. If Lipton was doing it, he would still need someone else's help.

They continued talking for some time, but after only a half hour, they were back just where they began. They all recognized that there was no new information to discuss. Harry wished that he had remained in McGonagall's office. He wanted to know what Robards was saying. He wanted to search for other information. There had to be something more.

"I think we need to speak with Marius Lipton," Harry announced.

"You think he did this?" Ginny asked.

"I don't know," replied Harry. "Maybe he's seen his father recently."

"We already discussed this, Harry," Hermione said with tired voice. "Unless you told the Brotherhood, there is no way he could have known about the message or the Diary."

"Well, it's quite the coincidence, isn't it?"

"And what if it is?" responded Hermione. "He thinks his father is dead, and now he's involved in this?"

"It can't hurt, can it?" commented Ginny.

None of them could think of a reason _not_ to, but Hermione clearly thought it was in poor taste.

With nothing more to talk about, they sat quietly and began picking food off a large table against the far wall. They ate quietly for some time. When most of the pangs in Harry's stomach had subsided he checked the clock hanging on the wall near the bookcase. A little over an hour had passed. How long would McGonagall be talking with the head Auror? Would they be staying here all afternoon? Or all night?

It looked as though the others were beginning to realize the same thing. Suddenly the games scattered about the room didn't seem like such a bad thing. Ron spotted Harry's glance toward a large, richly carved chess board not far from where he was already sitting. With a nod, Ron walked over to the other table and took a seat. Ginny and Hermione gave the two of them strange looks.

Harry ignored them and took a seat across from Ron. "Well," he told Ginny and Hermione, "are we interrupting something more pressing?" Frowning, they shrugged and moved over to the other table, Hermione sitting just off to one side of Ron and Ginny resting a hand on Harry's shoulder. He found it rather distracting, but would've done almost anything to keep it there.

It had been quite some time since Harry had played chess, though somehow it didn't seem to be going quite as bad as he expected. It helped that Ron had taken the opportunity to teach Hermione more about the game. It seemed as though it wasn't the first such lesson. Indeed, Hermione seemed to know quite a bit. Ron wasn't telling her how to move the pieces about; he was trying to teach her the strategy of the game.

Ginny watched silently as they played. Harry caught her glancing at him with faint surprise. "Have you been practicing?" she whispered into his ear. Harry's throat tightened. The warmth of her breath made his neck tingle. Whispering back, he told her he had not. Ron had spied the conversation and was giving Harry a doubtful look.

The game truly was going much better than Harry would have expected. Ron was looking more and more annoyed. He stopped explaining what he was doing to Hermione and focused on the game. Ginny's hand had left Harry's shoulder when she leaned forward to look at the board. A moment later, a warmth began spreading through Harry's leg from the place where Ginny's hand now rested. It was even more distracting than having her touching his shoulder, but he still forced himself to focus on the game.

After nearly two hours, the game was over. Without the distraction of having to explain what he was doing to Hermione, Ron had been able to put his full effort into the game and had managed to just barely defeat Harry. Ron immediately challenged Harry to another game. With a quick look at the clock, Harry nodded in agreement.

Giving Harry's leg a faint squeeze, Ginny sat up and suggested that Hermione join her for a game of Exploding Snap. Hermione glared disappointedly at the bookcase of Quidditch books, and agreed. Neither of the games was played with quite the revelry that they might have in other times, but Harry did find it rather relaxing. It had been quite some time since he'd done anything that might be considered amusing. The closest he'd come had been a few needless incursions into Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

They had not forgotten about the reason they were there, but in many ways they were still in a less dire situation than they had been only weeks ago. The only threat to their lives was from a few wizards who were already being hunted down by the Brotherhood. While he himself had almost immediately thought of the Brotherhood when he heard the name of the boy who had discovered the attack, he could think of no other reason the two should be connected.

Harry had to admit to himself that there was a certain excitement in solving a mystery which did not pose an immediate danger to himself, even if it seemed as though someone had deliberately tried to tie him to the attack.

After two more hours, Ginny and Hermione had finished several matches of Exploding Snap and had returned to the table where Ron and Harry were playing chess. Hermione had even brought one of Quidditch books back with her to look through while the chess match continued.

This match was going even better than the previous one. One particularly clever feint had given Harry a rather distinct advantage which Ron had been struggling to remove for over a half hour. He had been unsuccessful, and Ron looked downcast now. His defeat, it seemed, was imminent. It would be the first time Harry had ever defeated him.

"Did those Brotherhood blokes teach you how to play better?" Ron asked as he nudged his king behind a frightened looking rook.

"They didn't think much of games," replied Harry. "I guess all those months hiding and running about must have done the trick. I felt rather like a chess piece all that time, dodging about and attacking whenever I could, just to run back to safety and hide."

"Right," mumbled Ron, looking as though Harry had betrayed him. He begrudgingly nudged his king again, escaping the bishop who had just taken his quaking rook.

With a strange, light feeling, Harry realized something: he was going to win. Harry pointed his queen to move all the way across the board. It wouldn't be long now. Two more moves. Maybe three or four if Ron was clever. Ron was too annoyed to be clever. After another move, it was inevitable. Ron was finished. Harry stared at the board, hoping he hadn't missed anything. He reached for his knight, but it ducked as a shrill screeching echoed through the room.

Ron shout out of his seat and Harry had rolled off of his chair and pulled his wand before he remembered that he had been the one to cast the alarm ward on the door. Hermione was striding toward the door while Ginny was snatching the Indivisibility Cloak from the floor where Harry had tossed it.

Harry quickly dashed toward Ginny. She threw the cloak to him and within seconds he had pulled it over his head and pressed himself against the wall right next to the door. Now that he was closer, he could hear the knocking at the door.

Hermione flicked her wand at the door and the wailing alarm ended abruptly. She looked about, then slowly opened the door.

"What was that noise?" asked McGonagall's voice. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no," Hermione said quickly. "I put an alarm on the door. We, well... we're still a bit paranoid, I guess. I didn't want anyone sneaking up on us."

"Of course," the Headmistress said, "Completely understandable."

"How did the meeting with Robards go?"

"As good as could be expected. I'm afraid he doesn't completely trust me, but at the moment he can't find any reason to remove me as Headmistress." McGonagall paused to look into the room. "The three of you haven't noticed anything else... odd around here, have you?"

They exchanged confused looks. "No," answered Ginny. "Is there something odd you expected us to notice?"

"No, I suppose not," she replied. "I've just been feeling as though—" She stopped and shook her head. "I have been listening to Remus for too long. It's nothing, I'm certain. Come along. There isn't much time."

Ron was the first to find his voice. "Time for what?"

McGonagall looked about the corridor again and motioned for them to follow her. They did and Harry slipped through the door just before it closed. Once out into the corridor McGonagall quickly led them away while explaining the most important results of her meeting with Robards.

For the time, he had accepted Madam Pomfrey's guess that Miss Franklin had contracted a rare wizarding disease. There had been no talk at all about the warning on the wall of third floor corridor, or the manner in which she had been found. At the moment, Robards was busy talking to all of the Aurors, including a very upset Nymphadora Tonks who had been awoken from her only chance at sleep for the rest of the day.

After that, he would be visiting Lupin and Valencia in the Library, and when he was finished with them, he would return to the Hospital Wing to get an update from Madam Pomfrey and the St. Mungo's Healers who were supposed to be arriving shortly.

"I have managed to keep your presence here relatively quiet," she told them. "The few students who did see you earlier this morning are under the impression that you have already left. If Robards decides to ask them, that is the most he will get."

"But we're not leaving, are we?" asked Hermione as they began descending a narrow spiral staircase that had been hidden away in a back corner of the seventh floor.

"I hope not," the Headmistress replied. "You were still willing to help us, weren't you?"

Ron, Hermione and Ginny agreed in unison. Before he could stop himself, Harry had answered along with the rest of them. McGonagall paused on the stairs, hearing the chorus of echoing up and down the tight column of stairs. A moment later, she continued down the stairs.

They passed one old, heavy door, but continued descending the spiral. At the second door, they stopped and McGonagall opened it slowly and checked the corridor before motioning for Ron, Hermione and Ginny to follow. Harry easily slipped through the door before McGonagall could heave it shut.

"Where are we?" Hermione whispered. "I've never seen this part of the castle."

"I should hope not," replied McGonagall. "This corridor has been out of bounds to students for years. This is old staff housing. The Aurors live here now, along with a few of the younger professors. Professor Lynch has taken up Hagrid's old residence, of course."

"And why are we here?" Hermione responded, though Harry was fairly certain he already knew the answer.

"This is where the three of you are going to stay for the night," announced McGonagall. "I'd rather not have to explain why the three of you are here to Gawain Robards. At the same time, you will need a place to sleep. This solution seems to solve both problems."

McGonagall stopped by an iron-trimmed door and slipped a key into the lock. "Mr. Weasley, this will be yours." She pushed the door open and gasped in surprise. Harry couldn't see into the room, but he could guess the reason for her reaction.

"You're mental!" Ron coughed.

McGonagall cleared her throat. "Yes, I suppose this would be more appropriate for Miss Granger." She motioned for Hermione to enter.

"Hold on," remarked Ron. "Where am I supposed to sleep? I'm not sleeping in that."

"Of course you are not, Ronald. You are sleeping farther down the corridor. There are plenty of rooms available. I ordered the house elves to prepare a number of them. I'm sure we can find one of them to suit your discriminating tastes."

"Why can't we share room or something?" Ron asked. "I mean we've all been living together at Sirius's old house for the past week."

McGonagall gave him a disapproving frown. "You are a grown wizard, Ronald, and I can hardly tell you how to live your life. However, within these walls you must still obey my rules. For a thousand years, Hogwarts has not had mixed sleeping quarters and I'm not about to end that."

"What about the professors? Some of you had to be married—"

"And you are neither married nor a professor," snapped Professor McGonagall. "I understand that you and Miss Granger are close, but surely you can manage to spend a few nights apart."

"What about Ginny?" Ron blurted out suddenly. "Does she get her own room as well?"

"Yes, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall answered impatiently. "Three former students, three rooms."

"I'll share a room with her," he said while casting sidelong glances down the corridor. "She's had a rough time recently, I don't know if she should be sleeping alone—"

"I'll be fine," growled Ginny. Harry suddenly realized what was making Ron act so strangely.

"Are you sure?" Ron asked sharply. "You promise you'll be alright sleeping _all by yourself_."

"Nose out, Ron," replied Ginny. "I'll be just fine."

Ron turned back toward the Headmistress. "Ginny and Hermione can share a room," he said, nearly pleading with her. "That's one less room for the elves to clean up. That's a good thing, isn't it?"

"Enough, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall said, pronouncing an end to the discussion. "I don't have time for this. You are all adults now. There are three of you and I have three rooms open. Now I'm going to show you to your rooms and I'll ask that you stay there until tomorrow morning. I don't want anyone —not even the Aurors— to know that you're still here. I told Robards that you had left hours ago."

Ron glowered at the professor before walking over to Hermione and giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before McGonagall came to close the door.

"I'm sorry to have to do this," she told Hermione. "I'd rather not have to explain to the Ministry why the three of you were here. It would draw too much attention and suspicion. The house elves will be by later with food. They'll knock on the door before entering, of course. I will see you tomorrow morning after the students head off to their first classes."

Hermione waved and said goodnight to Ginny with a strange expression on her face. From where Harry was standing against the wall, he couldn't tell if she was trying to be stern or conspiratorial. Ron simply looked annoyed. His expression hadn't changed when McGonagall opened a second door and ushered him in.

Ron stood at the door for much longer than he needed to. "This room looks larger than Hermione's," he commented loudly. "You could fit two people in here pretty easily. I doubt you could say that about any of the other rooms."

"Yes, I'm quite happy you're pleased, Mr. Weasley," huffed Professor McGonagall. "I'm sure you'll find the food to be exquisite as well." She had to forcefully pull Ron's door closed. He had obviously been trying to give Harry as much time to get in as he could.

Harry, however, was still standing in the corridor when McGonagall locked the door.

She silently led Ginny and an invisible Harry around a corner and to the door of a third room. As he had done before, he brushed against her arm as they stopped to make sure that she knew he was there. A faint smile spread across her face and Harry thought he noticed her cheeks coloring slightly in the dim light.

"This will be your room, Miss Weasley," McGonagall announced. "I won't repeat myself. You're a very bright girl. I do however, wish to speak to you about... Harry."

Ginny's face paled and she stared into her former professor's face.

"I am proud of how you have handled yourself over the past few months. I know it's been very hard for you, and you've obviously faced some very dangerous situations. However, it's not healthy for you to think of Harry as you do. You must learn to move on, Ginny. Don't dwell in the past. Harry wouldn't want that."

"I know, Professor," Ginny replied calmly. "I don't live in the past, I swear. If I seem overly hopeful, it's only because I don't feel like he's gone. Wherever he is, I'm certain he's keeping an eye on me. Sometimes it feels like he's walking right next to me."

McGonagall gave her a warm smile. "I suppose that's not so bad. He used to think the same way about his parents. I think we could all do with someone keeping an eye on us." With a comforting pat on the shoulder, McGonagall unlocked the door and pushed it open. Ginny walked into the room with Harry right on her heels. McGonagall wished her a good night and pulled the door closed. Harry waited for the sound of the door locking. When he could hear McGonagall's footsteps echoing down the passage, he slowly pulled off the Invisibility Cloak.

The room was tastefully feminine with a minimum of lace and none of the heart patterns that Harry had been worried about. There were no windows, but there was a fireplace set into the far wall. The bed, sofa, and both chairs were colored a rich teal with white accents. It wasn't the way he would have decorated a room, but it would do.

"Ron's not going to be any happier tomorrow morning," he announced.

"I don't care what Ronald thinks," Ginny said with a playful smile. "He's in no place to act righteous around me. He's mental if he thinks that I'm going to share a room with him."

"I think he would have been satisfied if just one of us would have," Harry replied.

"Yes, well, he did put you in a tough place," she said as she flopped back onto the soft bed. "If you stayed in my room, he was going to be upset with you, but if you stayed in his room, _I_ would have been upset with you."

"I made the right choice, then." Harry laughed as he sat down on the bed next to her. They laid silently for some time. Harry felt his stomach tingling. He and Ginny hadn't been able to spend much time together without Ron and Hermione nearby. Now that they were finally alone, Harry felt increasingly uncomfortable.

"Do you think the Franklin girl is really sick?" he asked, mostly out of nervousness.

"I honestly don't care at the moment," announced Ginny. "It's worrisome, I'll admit, but I'm sure there's an explanation. I think I'd be more disappointed than frightened to discover it was the Death Eaters. No matter what it is, there's nothing more we can do about it tonight. We might as well just relax and try to enjoy our time together."

"What about the Diary, though?" he continued, trying to ignore his pounding heart and the warmth spreading through his chest. "What if this is supposed to be some sort of threat against you?"

"Harry," she said as she stared into his eyes, "I thought that you were dead for a year. For the last month, I was convinced that at any moment cloaked wizards might jump out of the shadows and kill me. All that is over now. I don't care if the Death Eaters think I'm responsible for losing Voldemort's wand or if some disgruntled Ministry employee wants to play pranks on the school. We'll deal with all of that later. I'm not going to let anything stop me from living my life."

With that, Ginny rolled over, held Harry's head with both her hands and gently pressed her lips against his. All thoughts of Ron, Miraphora Franklin and the Ministry dissolved in one blissful instant.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Whoa. I have no idea why this got cut off when I posted it. I mean, file uploads aren't supposed to do that, right?

Bizarre.

Oh well. Here's chapter 3 in its full glory, and I'll hand out a chapter 4 as an apology. I suppose this is also a good time to repeat the previous news that I will be hosting an Author Chat at WizardTales next Saturday (August 5). Check out www. wizardtales. net for more info. (You don't need to sign up at the site to chat, you can just jump into the chat at the right time... which is 8:30pm EST).


	4. Three Healers

**CHAPTER 4**

**Three Healers**

* * *

Ginny felt warm and content. She was only faintly aware of the world which existed outside her bed. It was harsh and filled with stress. She was happy and content right where she was, enveloped in luxurious comfort. She remembered that she wasn't at home. There was some reason why she wasn't but she didn't really care at the moment. Unfortunately, the more she tried not to care, the more insistent the memory seemed to be. She pulled the covers over her head, trying to hide from the inevitable. 

A _click_ echoed through the room and she froze.

"_Ginny!_"

She sat up suddenly, her body tense and ready to flee for reasons she couldn't yet remember. An instant later, a pale face surrounded by bushy hair leaned into the room. Hermione glared at the door. "Sound Barrier Charm?"

Ginny nodded groggily.

Hermione slipped into the room with her wand still in her hand, closing the door gently behind her. As her shoes clicked across the stone floor, Ginny noted her odd appearance. She was wearing the same black robes she used to wear for the Department of Mysteries and she had transfigured the comfortable shoes she was wearing yesterday to look more formal, yet her hair was still untamed and her robe was wrinkled in a few places. She must have been forced to dress quickly.

"Time to wake up," she announced. "The Ministry is sending wizards to see you."

To her left, Ginny felt something under the covers shift and emit a low grumble.

"See that he wakes up as well," Hermione said with a frown. She picked up the Invisibility Cloak from the floor and tossed it toward Harry. "That should make a suitable dressing gown, for you," she said in a louder voice. "Honestly, Harry. It's past nine o' clock. You should have been awake hours ago. I hope you haven't forgotten that you're supposed to be dead."

"Dead tired, perhaps," Harry grumbled as he pulled back the covers.

"And why would that be?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "You don't look as though you've had trouble sleeping."

"No," he said with a broad smile. "I slept astonishingly well." He slowly raised his head and squinted at Ginny. "Morning, Ginny," he croaked.

"Good morning, Harry," she replied, unable to keep herself from smiling and laughing. He smiled back.

"Enough!" groaned Hermione. "Ginny, did you miss the fact that there are Ministry wizards headed to this room? I'm sure it would be easy enough to convince them that you're lazy and forgetful, but the image of you lying in bed with a dead wizard is a little trickier."

"Tell them to wait until later," Ginny said after a yawning and rubbing her eyes. The bed was still warm and the air in the room felt surprisingly cold. Why was the fifth floor so cold? She stretched to grab her wand off the bedside table. With one flick the fireplace roared to life.

"I can't tell them to wait," growled Hermione. "They're following orders given by the Minister himself. When I left they were talking to McGonagall. You might have a minute or so until they show up."

Panic shot through Ginny's body. She leaped from the bed, looked at herself in the mirror on her wall and nearly collapsed. She looked horrible. Her hair was a complete mess and she had no robes to wear. She didn't even have a good shirt. She had transfigured the one she had been wearing yesterday into the white satin nightgown she was currently wearing. It didn't matter. There wasn't time.

"I need robes," she called out to Hermione as she turned her wand on the nightgown. With a flash it shrank and became a sensible-looking blouse.

"No peeking, Harry," Hermione said as her wand flicked toward the bed. A strip of black cloth popped into existence and wrapped itself tightly over his eyes. "I'll see what I can do with this rug," she told Ginny.

Ginny looked down at the jeans she had worn yesterday. They weren't really the sort of thing she wore while working at the Ministry. However, the last time she had tried to turn a pair of jeans into a skirt, the result had looked more useful as curtains than clothing. She shrugged and told herself that if the Ministry was going to pay surprise visits it couldn't complain about the dress of its employees. She quickly slipped into the jeans and ran her wand over them, cleaning off a few dusty spots from the day before.

"I'm decent again, Harry," she called out as she strode over to the mirror to fix her hair. Behind her, she could hear Harry pulling off his blindfold.

"You look good for having woken up a minute ago," he called out from behind her.

Ginny felt herself laugh. She turned around briefly to find him smiling and watching her straighten her hair with her wand.

"Shut up, you two," scolded Hermione. "This rug must be enchanted. It's not taking the charm quite right."

In the mirror Ginny saw the reflection of a hideous set of robes. They were the right size and shape, but it was still a garish red with brown highlights and tassels poking out from all the seams. She bent double as she broke out laughing again. "That's brilliant," she said between breaths. "Toss it here. Maybe I'll be able to scare them off so I can get a bit more sleep."

"You've had plenty, I'm sure," replied Hermione with a reproachful look. "Come on, Harry, get up!" she said, prodding him with her wand. "That Invisibility Cloak can't hide a lump in a bed. You're going to have to find a place to hide. And take off your nightshirt."

"Take off my shirt?" Harry said with a roguish grin. "What will Ron think?"

"He won't think anything because you're not going to tell him about it. Now shut up, take off your shirt and get over here!"

Still laughing, Harry pulled off his shirt and walked toward Hermione. She yanked the shirt from his hands and shoved him against the wall. With a flash, the shirt turned into a nicely-tailored set of black robes. Hermione threw them to Ginny and then pulled the Invisibility Cloak from the bed. She wadded it into a ball and tossed it at Harry's chest.

"Put that on and keep quiet," she ordered him. Once Harry had slipped the cloak over his head, Hermione aimed her wand at the door. It shimmered for a moment and then returned to normal. Almost immediately Ginny could hear voices in the corridor outside the door. Quickly she pulled the robes on and tried to straighten them out.

Hermione strode over to the bed and waved her wand. The sheets began smoothing, folding and tucking themselves back into place. "Button your robes," she hissed at Ginny, "and _please_ try not to look so disgustingly happy."

Ginny smiled one last time, then pressed her hands to her face forcing the muscles in her cheeks to relax. With almost no time to spare, Ginny buttoned the front of her robes, leaving only the collar of her blouse visible. Loud voices and a sharp knock at the door announced the arrival of the Ministry wizards.

"Ginevra Weasley?" a gruff voice called from the other side of the door. "My name is Herbert Hemlock, and I am from the Department of International Magical Cooperation. I need to speak with you."

Ginny felt a pang of worry at the tone of his voice. Was she in trouble? Hermione would have warned her if she was, wouldn't she? Hermione stood where she was and gave Ginny an encouraging nod toward the door. Taking this as a good sign, Ginny walked to the door and slowly opened it.

"Ah, I see you are awake," commented the wizard at the door. "Miss Granger said she had not seen you this morning." The wizard was tall, with short greying hair and a darkly colored beard. His eyes were heavy lidded and dark, making him look slightly ominous.

"She hadn't," replied Ginny lightly. "I woke up hours ago, but I was waiting for the Headmistress to call for me. I know how busy she can get in the mornings and I did not want to be a burden."

"Perhaps you could have used your spare time to send an owl to the Department?" the man suggested as he walked into the room. As he left the doorway, Ginny could see that there were a number of other people with him. A witch had already followed him into the room. She was blonde-haired and fair skinned, and she made no attempt to introduce herself.

Ginny stared at her as she stepped around the older wizard to put herself between Ginny and Hermione. Something about their behavior told Ginny to be on her guard. "I only just returned to Britain yesterday," she lied, hoping neither of them could prove her wrong. "I planned to return to the Ministry as soon as I was able to speak with Professor McGonagall. Is there any reason why that would be a problem?"

The witch and the wizard exchanged stony looks. "Were you aware of the attack on the Ministry one week ago?" the grey-haired wizard asked her.

"Yes."

"And why have you not returned to the Ministry to report what you know of those events?" He didn't even try to hide the knowledge that she had been there.

"I was occupied with business in Romania," she answered, hoping that Josef had been able to do everything he had promised.

The old wizard stared at her shrewdly. "Is there anything about the last week that you might wish to discuss with me? I can guarantee a private place where we might talk."

It sounded remarkably similar to the first time the Minister had sent wizards to find out about what had happened in Romania. She hoped that the same strategy would work again the second time.

"As far as I know, Grigore Tarus is still the Minister of Romania," she said, lying again. This time she noticed that the corner of the blonde witch's mouth twitched. She was looking at Ginny with a knowing gaze. "The Healers were confident that he would recover," she continued. "As such, I am still the Liaison to Romania and cannot reveal what has happened there without Mr. Tarus's permission."

"I regret to inform you that Grigore Tarus died early this morning," Hemlock announced. "Dragomir Debreczeni has been chosen to succeed him and he has already assumed his duties. However, that does mean that there is some... uncertainty about your position in these matters. If you would like to discuss anything which might have happened between then and now, I would be very interested to hear it."

"Oh, that is terrible news," Ginny replied feigning grief. "He was a brave man. Though, so is Dragomir. I would much rather speak with him before I discuss anything."

The wizard's face broke into a gloating smile and he turned to the blonde witch who now looked rather bored with the whole situation. She took a deep breath and said in a clear voice: "Bring him in, then."

Flanked by a pair of Aurors was Josef, again wearing the purple robes of the Romanian guard. He beamed at Ginny and held out a roll of parchment bound with three golden ribbons. She quickly unrolled it and read it. It was precisely what she had expected. Josef had kept his word. Dragomir was offering to retain her as the Liaison. Ginny didn't know how much it would truly be needed, but it would at least keep the Ministry from bothering her. When she looked up, Josef was offering her a fresh quill.

The moment she had signed the parchment, Josef rolled it back up and slipped it into his robes. He smiled brightly at the other two wizards. "I'm afraid I need to speak with the Liaison. Would you mind giving us some privacy?"

"In a moment," replied Hemlock. "Based on the return of stolen property and the testimony given to the Minister of Magic by Mr. Kantos on behalf of the wizards of Romania, the Ministry of Magic has agreed to grant you and your friends amnesty for whatever part you played in the events on the fourteenth of September. As such, you are re-instated to your full position with the Department of International Magical Cooperation. You will be expected to report to the Ministry before this evening. Until then, there is a situation which Mr. Harrington needs you to begin looking into."

"Can it wait a day?" Ginny asked. "I was helping—"

"It cannot wait," he interrupted her. "There are reports that a troubling disease has infected a student of this school. I understand how shocking this must be," he added pointedly. "Miss Granger has recently been reinstated to her position with the Department of Mysteries, though she is currently restricted to field research due to a lack of open offices," he said with a sidelong look at the blonde witch. She blinked back at him with disinterest.

"She will be studying the disease to learn its origin. Mr. Harrington feels that, because of your friendship, the two of you would be able to work closely without interfering with each other's duties. It will be your duty to learn what you can of it so that you will be able to inform the Ministries of neighboring countries of our progress in describing and curing it. Will that be acceptable?"

Ginny tried to look around the blonde witch to see Hermione's face, but it was impossible to do. Finally, Ginny did the only thing she could. "Yes," she agreed. "That sounds alright."

He nodded and smiled. "Very well, then. I must return. Mr. Harrington is very busy and he is expecting my report as soon as possible. He will be happy to hear of your good health." He turned and addressed the Aurors. "I believe you are done here," he said. "Miss Weasley has business to attend to, and she needs privacy. You lot all need to leave."

The blonde witch walked to the door, but Hermione remained in place. "It's no use," she told Josef. "You won't get any privacy in here."

Mr. Hemlock paused to give her a confused look. "What in the world do you mean, Miss Granger?"

"Ghosts," she replied. "You know, _spirits of the dead_? Hogwarts has loads of them. You never know when one might show up."

Josef smiled and nodded. "Yes, Miss Granger, I know what ghosts are. I'm certain that I can handle any ghosts who might pop in."

The Aurors motioned for Hermione to step out of the room she did. After she passed through the doorway, Mr. Hemlock leaned in one last time to remind Ginny to stop by the Ministry before that evening. Just before he left, he reached in and tapped the door with his wand. "Silencing Charm," he said. "Just for extra measure. Still, you might want to show some discretion." With a polite bow he pulled the door shut behind him leaving Ginny and Josef standing in the center of the room.

"You took quite a few risks just then," Josef said lightly as he walked over to one of the cushioned chairs. He took out his wand and prodded the chair before slowly sitting.

"What do you mean?" she asked, genuinely confused about just which part had been risky.

"You lied to them," he said simply. "You lied about things of no value. You would have been better to simply remain silent. Luckily, the Department of Mysteries didn't have time to find a Legilimens to send here with me." He shook his head. "Honestly, Ginny. There was no need to tell them that you had been awake for hours. I don't even need to be a Legilimens to know that is a lie."

"What?" she gasped. "How do you know that?"

"I'm not blind," he said with a smile. "Do you expect me to believe that you woke up hours ago and yet you are still wearing—" he paused to point to the ground "—socks covered in tiny dancing pigs?"

Ginny looked down at her feet and groaned in embarrassment. "They're soft, alright? I didn't have time to find anything else the day before." She walked over to where she'd thrown her shoes and slipped them on to cover as much of them as she could. "I should just toss them in the bin and be done with it. They're not worth all this."

"So where is Harry?" Josef called out while she struggled with the shoelaces. "I assume he's here somewhere. Did he slip in with Miss Granger?"

Ginny nodded toward the corner where Hermione had pushed Harry.

"The Invisibility Cloak, right?" he said with a smile. "Harry never could pull off the right charms when he needed to. He'd always run back to his Cloak." Josef put his feet up on an ottoman and leaned back. "Come on out, Harry. I need to speak with you as well."

Harry's voice came out of nowhere. "So speak."

"Come on, Harry," Josef chided. "I've got news you'll want to hear, and it will be a lot easier if I'm not forced to speak to thin air."

"I'd rather not," Harry replied. "I didn't have time to dress."

"That's never stopped you before," replied Josef. "You have several faults, Harry, but modesty has never been one of them. Ginny's a good person. Whatever you're wearing, I'm sure she won't judge you. Drop the cloak and let's get down to business."

When there was no response, Ginny spoke up, asking Harry to show himself. Without warning, the wall peeled itself open and dropped to the floor, revealing Harry standing in just the flannel pants he slept in. Josef snorted in amusement.

"I see Ginny wasn't the only one who overslept. The least you could have done was to put on a shirt."

Harry scowled. "I _had_ a nightshirt. She needed robes."

Ginny watched as the truth struck Josef suddenly. He swallowed and looked down at the floor. "Oh. Of course. You both overslept because you were in the same bed." He kept his face hidden so that Ginny couldn't quite make out the expression on his face. It appeared to be some form on embarrassment.

"I feel a little foolish," he admitted, "and that is not a feeling I'm fond of. Touché, Harry." Josef pulled out his wand and looped it at the sheets on the bed. With ruffle of fabric, they twirled themselves into an expensive looking black dressing robe. "There. Can we get on with our business?" he asked still trying not to look either of them in the eyes.

Harry put on the dressing gown and sat down in a nearby chair. Ginny felt suddenly awkward wearing the robes which had once been Harry's shirt. She tossed them on the bed and walked over to take a seat on the couch between Harry and Josef. Once she'd sat down, Josef began talking.

As he'd promised, the Brotherhood had exerted its influence to see that Ginny and Hermione had been given their jobs. Apparently Harrington had been the easiest to work with. He had already been petitioning the Minister's office to stop looking for Ginny as a criminal. The Minister himself had been more difficult since he was eager to get answers for what had happened. He'd traded it easily enough for the promise of help capturing the Death Eaters who'd been involved.

Auguste Reynard had been the most difficult. There was little the Brotherhood could give him that would offset the knowledge that one of his employees had betrayed him. The return of Voldemort's wand had helped, but Josef wasn't willing to say everything that had been involved with the trade that had secured Hermione's position again. Josef was only willing to say that the Department of Mysteries and the Brotherhood would continue to share information.

This seemed worrisome to Ginny but Harry hadn't reacted at all. He simply nodded silently as though he'd expected this all along.

"As part of this... partnership," Josef continued, "he told me that one of the Aurors stationed here has been passing information to him." He stared calmly at Harry. "I don't know what is going on here, but as you heard, the Ministry is suddenly very interested in whatever it is. He said that he knew about how they found the girl. He knew that she had a mirror and a diary. The mirror is easy enough to understand, once you've studied the history of this castle. The diary is more mysterious. He didn't know what it meant and neither do I. Could you explain it to me?"

Ginny lowered her head and kept quiet. After a moment, Harry spoke up for her. "Hermione was carrying a mirror when she was attacked. And when Ginny was attacked, she had been holding a diary."

Josef seemed unimpressed by this explanation. "I fear it may be more than that, but it doesn't matter. He's convinced that this is your doing. He can't say that publicly, of course, but you would do well to remain discrete for the time being. You still have many enemies, Harry."

"I know," he replied. "I was hoping you'd have some information on them. In particular, I'm interested in Marcus Lipton. I know he was alive when we escaped. Where is he now?"

"Marcus?" Josef repeated, stiffening in his chair. "Why do you want to know about Marcus?"

"His son was the one who found the girl," Ginny said, finally speaking up. Something about his response to the name had told her that Harry's idea might not be as bad as she'd first thought.

"Marcus refused the order to assemble and fled Romania," Josef told them. "We've been tracking him since then. I haven't heard any news about him for some time, but I will ask the others and return later. Do you think that he could have done this?"

"Grigore used to say that there is no such thing as a coincidence."

Josef looked troubled and uncertain for a moment. "You make a good point, but I doubt Marcus has returned to Britain. Dragomir was to contact me if he thought any of the missing members had come here."

"Maybe he slipped in," suggested Harry. "I did it all the time."

"You're a better wizard than Marcus will ever be."

Ginny watched in fascination. Despite a hint of bitterness in Harry's voice and the slight condescension in Josef's, it was obvious that the two had once been friends. Not, perhaps, as close as Harry and Ron were, but there was a comfortable familiarity that she'd only seen with people who trusted each other —or had, at some point.

"Maybe he didn't need to come back to Britain," commented Harry. "How much would he know about Ginny and me?"

"Enough," snorted Josef. "He would know you two... have a relationship. I wouldn't be surprised if he has read the stories about Ginny's first year here. His skill with potions was impressive. He might have been able to brew up something to convince one of the former students to share their memories of the attack, but then—" He stopped and tapped his finger on his chin pensively. "I think I see what you mean. He still could not have known about that diary. There is something about it you're not telling me. Something important."

"That doesn't matter right now," said Harry dismissively. "If he is the one doing this, then he's found someone to help him. The only other wizards who might know about the Diary were the Death Eaters."

Much to Ginny's surprise, Josef barely reacted to the news. "Yes. Yes, I understand your concerns, now. That is possible. It doesn't explain how they might have gotten into this place, but... it is not as difficult as your Aurors believe."

"What about this disease?" Ginny asked. "What's causing it? Is there some way to stop it?"

"I don't know," he told her. "It might not be a disease at all. I don't know how skilled your local Healer is. As I said, Lipton was a master of potion-making. It is possible that this poor girl simply drank a very complex, slow-acting poison. You might also want to consider that she might be under the effects of a cursed item."

"Hogwarts has wards set up to warn the professors if any item brought into the castle has an abnormally strong curse upon it," Harry explained. "A few years ago there was some trouble with a necklace. I don't think they've been removed since then."

Josef sighed heavily. "Well, it has to be something, Harry. If Hogwarts' defenses were perfect, we wouldn't be here, would we?" Slowly, he leaned forward and stood up.

"I will try to see what I can find out about Marcus and this disease," he told them. "Dragomir and I were hoping that we would be able to tell you that you could finally announce yourself to an adoring public, but considering this news it's probably for the best that you remain hidden for now. I will try and help you, but _please_ Harry, try not to do anything terribly stupid for a few days?"

Harry scowled at him. "Like what?"

"I don't know, Harry," Josef replied with grin. "You continue to amaze me with the stupid things you decide to do. I'd be happy if you could refrain from attacking anyone for just three days."

"I haven't attacked anyone for a week."

"I'm giddy," Josef replied flatly. "You've managed to avoid attacking friends you've had for nine years. Now let's see how you do when you have to spend time around the rest of the wizarding world."

As he walked to the door, Josef turned to bow politely to Ginny. "I will gather what information I can and speak with you when you return to the Ministry this afternoon. I suggest you delay your return as late as you can. Good day." He turned about, opened the door, and walked out. Before the door closed again, Hermione had stepped into the room.

"McGonagall and Lupin want to speak to us," she announced. "And for heaven's sake Harry, put a shirt on."

* * *

Luckily for Harry, McGonagall had set the meeting to be in Lupin's office. Now that they had their jobs back and a mandate from the Ministry of Magic, Ginny and Hermione were free to walk through the corridors without much anxiety. Harry, however, wasn't having such an easy time. While the students dodged Ron, Hermione and Ginny, Harry had to stay on their heels to avoid being trampled by the herd of students moving between lessons. 

The streams of teenagers had thinned by time they reached the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Tacked to the door was a note in bold writing:

_Classes canceled for the day. Fourth-years should read chapter six on Disabling Curses. Seventh-year students should read the section on Concealment Charms and write ten inches on how best to select a Concealment Charm in a defensive situation._

Ginny opened the door and found Lupin and McGonagall standing at the front of the classroom with Tonks and an Auror they had not yet met. He looked to be about as old as Tonks with wavy brown hair that hung down past his jaw. He spotted them immediately and smiled, announcing: "Remus. They're here."

Harry slipped into the room behind the three of them and kept to the walls while they walked down the center aisle toward the others. The new Auror introduced himself to Ron, Hermione and Ginny. His name was Simon Weller. He was indeed just as old as Tonks and they had gone through Auror training at the same time. Before he could spend too much time praising her abilities at avoiding detection, McGonagall stopped him and directed them to Lupin's office.

Unable to find any safe way to slip into the office, Harry had to be content to listen at the door. Knowing nothing about why McGonagall had called the meeting, there was little Harry could tell Ginny to do. He had to rely on his friends to ask the right questions. They didn't let him down.

Almost immediately after McGonagall congratulated them on getting their jobs back and thanking them for taking the assignment to help her, Ginny spoke up and nearly demanded to speak with Marius Lipton.

This caught McGonagall by surprise. She tried to explain that a number of wizards had already spoken with Marius and that none of them believed he had lied to them.

Ginny was persistent. "We think they might have missed something. He might have been telling the truth, but it's possible that the Aurors weren't asking the right questions."

"We're also going to need to see Miraphora Franklin," announced Hermione.

McGonagall seemed more willing to let them speak with the Ravenclaw prefect than let them enter the Hospital Wing. "Poppy and the Healers from St. Mungo's agree. It's too early to tell if this disease will spread to other wizards. I afraid you'll have to do your research some other way. The Healers have said they would be more than willing to speak—"

"I'm sorry, Professor," interrupted Hermione, "but I'm afraid you will have to let me into the Hospital Wing. I have been given special authority by the Minister—"

"_Special authority?_" gasped McGonagall. "I cannot believe that you of all people would use the Ministry's authority to tell me how to run this school. I though you were here to—"

"We _are_ here to help you," insisted Hermione. There was a moment of silence before she continued. "I don't think this disease is contagious, _if_ it's even a disease, but I can't prove that if you don't let me see her."

They continued arguing for some time. McGonagall and Lupin tried to convince Hermione that the best Healers in Britain were looking at the girl, but she stood her ground. She and Ginny had related a condensed version of the discussion that had taken place with Josef, but Harry was now beginning to wonder if they had understood something he hadn't. After another minute of argument, McGonagall reluctantly agreed, so long as they would be willing to observe some form of safety.

Harry very nearly stumbled as he tried to get out of the way of the door. McGonagall emerged a second later, looking more disgruntled than she had when they had gone into the office. Ginny and Hermione followed her, trailing a satisfied-looking Ron. Lupin and the Auror were close behind him. With a little difficulty and quite a bit of nerve, he slipped back out of the room just behind the Aurors.

* * *

Ginny wasn't sure exactly what she was supposed to be doing. Professor McGonagall had agreed to Ginny's request to speak with Marcus Lipton's son. That had been quite a bit easier than she had expected. She hadn't known that Hermione was going to demand to see the girl as well. 

McGonagall had been forced to agree. Hermione did have the support of the Minister. Reynard always seemed to be able to get the Minister to agree to such escalations of power. While Ginny had to admit to herself that she was interested in seeing the girl, she wasn't sure it was worth the trade off.

In order to give Madam Pomfrey and the Healers time to prepare for the visit, she had agreed to have them meet with Marius Lipton first. Harry hadn't told her anything about what questions she was supposed to ask. She could guess some of them, but unless she could find some way to speak with Harry, it was going to be a rather short discussion. McGonagall led them all to an old classroom and had them wait there while Tonks and Simon went to fetch Marius Lipton from whatever lesson he was in the middle of.

Ginny found herself obsessed with the door to the room. It had been open long enough for Harry to enter, hadn't it? Should she find some excuse to leave the room? She could ask to visit the bathrooms. That would give her an excuse to open the door for a little longer as well as possibly create and opportunity for Harry to tell her exactly what he thought Marius knew that would help them. Before she had a chance to act, Tonks and Simon were back, escorting a bewildered Marius Lipton.

"What is this?" he asked as he sat down at one of the dusty tables. "What do you all want?"

"We need to ask you a few more questions about what happened two nights ago," answered Professor McGonagall. "This is Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley and—"

"I know who they are," Marius told her. "Why are they here?"

"We just want to ask you a few questions," Hermione answered, "—in private, if you don't mind."

McGonagall looked slightly offended, but she didn't argue. She motioned for the Aurors to leave and then turned to do the same with Ron.

"Ron can stay," Hermione said in low voice.

"There is a good reason, I assume," McGonagall said with raised eyebrows.

"For the time being, Ron will be acting as my guard. The Minister has insisted that another wizard watch over me at all times," Hermione explained. "I don't want to force any of your Aurors to follow me around when Ron will be doing that anyway." McGonagall accepted it with a stern gaze, and walked out of the room.

Marius glared at them from his table. He didn't say a word; he simply watched them with a look of smoldering disgust.

Ginny was still no closer to figuring out just what she was supposed to ask. Ron seemed equally unsure. Only Hermione seemed to have any idea where they were supposed to start.

"Two nights ago," she began slowly, "how did you know there had been an attack?"

"A man wearing a cloak and a mask walked up to me and told me," he said flatly. "He was covered in blood and cackling maniacally."

"You expect me to believe that?" replied Hermione.

"Of course not, you bloody moron," the boy shot back. "I didn't know there was an attack. I guess I just made that assumption when I saw that girl, deathly pale and lying in front of that message. Should I have reported it as vandalism instead?"

Ginny heard a faint voice speaking: "Why was he there? The Astronomy Tower is on the other side of the staircase."

The sound of Harry's voice had nearly made her jump. He was very close to her. After waiting a moment to make sure no one else had heard him, she spoke up: "You were coming back from a night at the Astronomy Tower, weren't you?" He glared at her strangely and nodded. "Where were you going? If you were headed back to your common room, why didn't you take the stairs?"

"Because I'm a _prefect_," he said, pointing at the small gold badge on his robes. "The torches along that corridor light when people approach them. I saw torches lit. I thought it might have been a student sneaking about the corridors, so I went to investigate. There have also been reports of something _odd_ lurking about."

"Do you know what it is?" asked Hermione.

"Why are you asking me?" he replied. "You're the one who works for the Department of Mysteries. Isn't that why the Headmistress brought you here?"

"How do you know who we are?" Ginny asked, hoping to catch him off guard.

It didn't work. He glared at her as if she'd insulted him. "Come off it," he groaned. "He's the second most dreadful Keeper in the league," he said with a nod toward Ron. "The professors still talk about the amazing Hermione Granger and you've been in the _Prophet_ more than both of them combined."

"And do you know why we're here?"

For a few seconds, Marius didn't reply. He simply stared at Ginny. "You're here to see what I know about the attack," he finally said. "You think that there's something I'm not telling the others."

"Is there something you didn't tell them?" prompted Ginny.

"No."

"Ask him about his father," whispered Harry. "Ask him about the last time he heard from his father."

Ginny relayed the question immediately. She had expected Marius to get upset or make some cutting remark. Instead he simply sat in his chair with a stony expression on his face as he stared at the table in front of him.

"You look like her, you know," he commented.

Ginny was confused. "Like who?"

"The girl in the corridor," he explained. "Frankston or Frankford or something. You look like her."

His apathy upset her. "Her name is Miraphora Franklin," she said slowly.

"Right. That is it," he replied, waving his hand casually. "But I suppose that wasn't quite the right way to say it. You don't look like her. She looks like _you_. That's why you're so interested, isn't it?"

Ginny was frozen with shock and anger. Her mouth moved soundlessly as she tried to think of a good answer.

"We're here to ask you about your father," Ron answered. "She asked you a question: When did you last hear from your father."

Marius blinked and turned toward Ron. "My father? I... I got an owl from him on Friday. He said that he was... He said he was in danger. He was worried about me. He thought I might be in danger as well."

"Does he have the message?" hissed Harry.

Ginny asked quickly, but Marius shook his head. His father worked in the Department of Mysteries. That meant that all messages were burnt or otherwise destroyed as soon as they were read.

Hermione and Ron continued to question him about every detail of the message he could remember: the type of owl, the hour it had arrived, where he had been when it was delivered, even the people who were around him when he got it. Nothing seemed to help them understand what had happened.

"We're getting nowhere," mumbled Harry. "He might as well go. There's nothing more we can get from him right now."

Ginny waited for a break in the questions, and told Marius that they were done with him and that he could go. She tried to act as polite and thankful as possible. She sensed that they might need to speak with him again and she didn't want to make it any worse than this attempt.

Once he'd left, Harry pulled down the Invisibility Cloak enough for Ron, Hermione and Ginny to see his face. Ginny had been disappointed with the outcome of the questioning, but Harry looked to be downright disgusted.

"He's hiding something," he told them, "but it's nothing he saw that night and he hasn't heard from his father since Friday."

"How do you know that?" Ron snorted. "Are you Legilimens now?"

Harry shook his head. "No, but this wasn't my first interrogation either. After a while you can just get a feel for these things. If he saw anything, he was memory charmed so well we wouldn't even know where to start looking." Harry ran a floating hand through his hair. "He's quite clever, but it couldn't have been him. He barely knew the girl's name, and even if he did, he simply doesn't have the ability to cast any spells powerful enough to confuse Lupin or make any poisons beyond Madam Pomfrey's skill to cure."

Ginny slumped into a chair nearby, feeling even more confused and frustrated than she had before the meeting. Now, not only did she not have any idea what she was supposed to do, but she had the knowledge that the one guess they had was utterly wrong.

"Well, it wasn't completely worthless," Hermione told Ginny after hearing how she felt. "There were a couple things we didn't know. We know that Marcus Lipton is alive and he thinks that he's put his son in danger."

Harry was quick to jump in and reassure all of them that Marius had little to fear from the Brotherhood. He explained that they might assign someone to follow him and watch for his father, but they wouldn't kill or hurt him simply because his father had betrayed them. It was much more likely that they would have recruited Marius to help them track down and kill his own father.

"None of that matters, though," he said despondently. "It was a guess and it was wrong. Perhaps it was just a coincidence. Perhaps there was supposed to be something more to the attack, but Marius interrupted it before someone could finish. Perhaps he's got nothing to do with it and the attack happened just after dinner that night."

"Well, if we can't figure out who might have done this," said Hermione, "maybe we should try to understand just what they did and see how that might help us."

Harry let out a deep sigh. "Alright then. Let's go pay a visit to Miraphora Franklin."

* * *

"I don't care if Merlin himself signed that parchment, it's not safe! I'm having quite enough trouble treating one student. The last thing I need is three more wizards to look after." 

"Now, Poppy—" began Professor McGonagall.

"No, Minerva," she interrupted. "The orders from St. Mungo's are that _no one_ else enters until we figure out what is causing this."

"That's why we're here," insisted Hermione. "We are trying to help you figure out what's happened. There's a chance that this isn't a disease at all. Lupin hasn't gotten it. Marius Lipton hasn't gotten it. No one else has. Just her."

"I'm sorry, Miss Granger, but the situation is not what it was yesterday," argued Madam Pomfrey.

"If her condition's changed, then that's all the more reason for us to take a look at her," replied Hermione.

Harry was standing behind the small group of wizards waiting outside the door to the Hospital Wing. Ginny had hung back, letting Hermione and Professor McGonagall try to convince Madam Pomfrey to let them in. Tonks and Simon were standing a ways behind them and watching for students.

Harry allowed himself to ignore the conversation at the door. They were arguing, but they weren't saying anything he hadn't expected them to. In the end, none of it would matter. Hermione and Ginny had orders from the Minister himself. They could walk in even without Pomfrey's permission. The only purpose of the discussion was to impress upon all of them just how serious the situation might be. This was something they were all familiar with. Even if Miraphora Franklin had been infected with a horrible wizarding disease, entering the room wouldn't be the most dangerous thing they had done that month.

"Well, I may not be able to forbid you from seeing Miss Franklin," said Madam Pomfrey sternly, "but I can force you to observe the most rudimentary of precautions."

She quickly handed a folded piece of white fabric through the small window in the door and told Hermione to tie it tightly over her nose and mouth. "I will allow you to see her, but for your safety, you must not linger. Ask whatever questions you must, write down anything you like, but perform your duty and leave as quickly as you can."

Hermione took the cloth and frowned. "Ginny and Ron are coming with me."

Madam Pomfrey looked far from pleased, but she didn't restart their earlier disagreement. She knew as well as Harry that they would only end up back where they were now. She handed four more through the window, offering a pair of them to Lupin and the Headmistress. They accepted them and began tying them as Ron and Hermione were.

Ginny still hadn't put hers on. Harry thought he understood why. Her eyes were shifting from the door to the cloth in her hands. She was almost certainly thinking the same thing he was: if they were wrong and it truly was a disease, how much risk would he be in if he followed them?

"Are you alright, Ginny?" Lupin asked with a muffled voice. "You don't have to do this. I'm sure Hermione and I would be—"

"No," Ginny said firmly. "I want to see her. I need to see her. That's why I'm here, isn't it? So that I can tell others what is happening?" Ginny turned and looked away from the door, her gaze passing somewhere off Harry's left shoulder. "I'll see her and I'll explain what I see to anyone who needs to know."

The message had been quite clear: Ginny didn't want Harry to follow them. She didn't know what was happening and was worried about him. He could understand that. She'd lost him for a year and now she'd found him again. It felt reasonable for her to be protective.

And yet Harry felt compelled to enter the hall. He had been certain that Marcus Lipton was behind the attack. Everything seemed to fit. It really wouldn't have taken much for him to learn about the Diary. He would have known about Harry and Ginny. The entire Brotherhood knew. They had been using Ginny as bait to draw him out for almost a year. The parallels between this girl and Ginny were simply too much to ignore.

It _had_ to be the work of the Brotherhood, but that still didn't answer all the questions. What had they done to the girl? Why had they done it? In the past, the purpose of such an attack was only to draw Harry out of hiding. A simple Petrification Curse would have done that. Even if Pomfrey had cured it in a day, it still would have coaxed Harry out of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

There was something more that he couldn't quite figure out how to describe. It was a feeling. He could _feel_ that there was something else going on here. He could _feel_ that it wasn't going to have a simple explanation. He could _feel_ that the only way he'd ever figure it out was by walking through the doorway and into the Hospital Wing. Miraphora Franklin would give him the answers he was looking for. He could sense it.

When Madam Pomfrey opened the doors, the five wizards in front of him quickly filed through. Since she had been standing in the back, Ginny was the last to walk through. As he'd done before, Harry followed close behind her, placing one hand on her lower back. She paused at the door for a second, and he pressed her forward. Once inside the door, he shuffled along the wall, avoiding Madam Pomfrey as she closed and locked the door.

The curtains between the beds had been taken down, and every bed within twenty feet of Miraphora had been removed. There were no tables, no chairs and no shelves to place any potions. Even within the Hospital Wing, steps had been taken to separate her from every possible object.

Slowly, Pomfrey led the group toward the girl. Harry tried to keep as much distance as he could. To be honest, he didn't keep as much distance as he wanted. He needed to get a good look at her. There was no way he'd be able to spot anything of interest from the other side of the room. He slowly crept along the beds behind the others, keeping as close to the wall as he could until he had passed the last bed around the barren floor surrounding her. He hoped that the cloth of the Invisibility Cloak would work in much the same way as the squares of cloth the others were covering their noses and mouths with.

* * *

Ginny lost track of where Harry had gone. If he was smart, he would stay back at the door and simply listen to whatever was being said. A more realistic voice in Ginny's mind guessed that he had actually slipped off to find the best possible view that he could. For all she knew, he was already standing at the foot of her bed. 

As Pomfrey led them closer to the girl's bed, a second wizard stepped out of Pomfrey's office to give them a disapproving glare. After walking over to the isolated bed and waving his wand over the girl, he frowned and turned about, walking back to the office.

The closer they got, the more anxious she got. She kept telling herself that Josef knew what he was talking about and he hadn't said that he believed she truly had a new disease. And yet, the best Healers in Britain had been unable to figure out what had happened.

As she stepped closer to the foot of the bed, she began to understand. Ginny had seen Colin Creevey when he had been petrified. It had looked as though he had simply been frozen in place. They had said that Miraphora was nearly petrified, and now she would see why they had made the distinction. In truth, Ginny didn't expect that she would be laying in bed, just as frozen as Colin had been. She had been expecting the girl to be pale or sickly and lying peacefully on the bed. The reality was so much more troubling.

Miraphora's skin was indeed quite pale. Like Ginny, she had bright red hair, with naturally pale skin. Now, its color had become more like smooth alabaster. Had that been the only change it might have been disconcerting enough. However, there was something else which made Ginny slow her pace.

She had noticed it on the girl's arm first. It was laying limply at her side, uncovered by the sheets. Stretching down her arm were lines of smoky blue, like dark cracks of color through white marble. Her fingernails were a deep violet. Ginny ignored the clenching of her stomach and followed Madam Pomfrey closer.

When she saw Miraphora's face, she felt her throat tighten until it was nearly choking her. The girl's face was mostly pale like the rest of her skin, but her eyes were sunken and ringed in deep crimson. Her lips, too, were a grotesque mixture of red and purple. The dominating feature of her face, however, was her forehead.

The small patch of skin between and just above her eyes had turned an alarmingly dark shade of grey. The dark veins of color seemed to originate there before spidering across her head and down her neck.

"What happened to her?" gasped Hermione.

"We don't know," answered Madam Pomfrey. "We cannot find any spell, potion, venom or cursed object which has been shown to cause effects anything like this."

Ginny forced herself to take a closer look. There was something even more bizarre about the girl's lips. Unlike the rest of her, they seemed to be trembling slightly. There was no other movement in her face, not even the faintest twitch of an eyelid.

"She started doing that yesterday," commented Pomfrey. "We thought she might have been getting better, but at the time, her veins were only faintly blue. By yesterday afternoon, her fingernails had turned the color they are now. Nothing we gave her was even able to slow it down."

Hermione leaned closer to the girl's face. "Lupin said she was doing something like that when he found her. It probably doesn't mean anything."

"Perhaps not," Madam Pomfrey replied, "but unless I'm terribly mistaken, I think she's trying to say something."

"This whole time?" asked McGonagall. "Do you think she is trying to tell us who attacked her?"

"It's more than that," Pomfrey answered hesitantly. "At times, I would have sworn that I heard her speak from across the room, but as soon as I walked closer all I could hear was incoherent whisperings."

"Instead of trying to cure her, perhaps you might simply try to find something that would help her speak," suggested the Headmistress. "If she could tell us who attacked her or how it was done,"

"We have tried everything, Minerva. We had to stop trying. We have given her so many potions that we've been forced to keep track of all the ingredients we're using. Late last night, we discovered that all the Mandrake we had given her was beginning to become toxic. Even now, she's had disturbing amounts of nightshade. Any more and its effects might become irreversible." Madam Pomfrey paused and looked at the Headmistress. "Though I must admit, we have considered doing just that."

"You want to kill her?" gasped the Headmistress. "Poppy, I cannot allow you to even consider—"

"No!" hissed Pomfrey with a sudden urgency, "Not to kill her! No, to pacify her."

"If she was any more passive—"

"That's just it, Minerva," Madam Pomfrey whispered, "We don't think she truly is. When she was first brought in, there were three other students in here with her. One of them had broken his leg on one of those bloody trick stairs. The other two said they had burned themselves doing homework for their potions class. While I was mending the leg of the one boy, I... just suddenly realized that the two others had actually been scalded when they had tried to sneak into Professor Stanton's office. The antidote required was quite different. The mistake would have been a painful one."

Professor McGonagall shook her head. "What are you talking about, Poppy? I don't see how this has anything to do with Miss—"

"Neither did I," Pomfrey relied. "I kept the three of them around to see that they healed up properly, and all that time my mind kept thinking things I might try to cure Miss Franklin —things I had never heard of, things I didn't even know names for." She tightened the cloth around her nose and mouth and lowered her voice.

"I thought I was imagining it. But I wasn't. I told him when he showed up—" she said with a nod to the St. Mungo's Healer in the office behind her "—and he said the same thing. But now he's doing it too. That's how we knew to stop giving her any potions using Mandrake. We were both making a Reawakening Draught when we just stopped suddenly, knowing that it would do more harm than good."

"Are you trying to tell us," whispered McGonagall, "that you believe _she_ is the cause of this?" Madam Pomfrey nodded slowly. "She is a first year," scoffed McGonagall. "It's unlikely enough that she simply knows what Mandrake is, much less how much she could ingest before it became dangerous."

"I know that, but there is no other explanation. There is no one else in the wing. It cannot be either of us. I can't say how she knows these things. Somehow, she is able to know what we are thinking and put thoughts into our minds."

"What sort of disease would do that?" commented Ron. "It put her into some trance and taught her everything about Healing except how to heal herself? It's twisted."

"Yes, it is. I'm afraid—" She cast a glance back over her shoulder and dropped her voice again, so that it was barely audible. "I think it might be spreading to us. That is why I think you should stay away from her. However, I _knew_—" she paused to nod at the girl lying on the bed "—that you would not believe me until you saw her for yourself."

McGonagall stared at her for some time. "If this is true, then she must not stay here. I cannot endanger the lives of all the students—"

"St. Mungo's won't have her," hissed Pomfrey. "They've turned her away."

"They can't do that!" gasped Hermione. "Are they just going to let her lie here while they do nothing?"

"There is nothing to be done, Miss Granger," announced a weary voice from across the room. They all turned to see the Healer from St. Mungo's walking toward them. "St. Mungo's cannot risk causing an outbreak. They have already risked one Healer on this girl; they will not risk infecting any more."

"That's it, is it?" replied Ginny. "They can't cure her, so they'll ignore her, wait for her to die, and then forget it ever happened."

"In this case, it may be the most prudent thing to do," he said flatly. "There is little more we can do. The Healers are trying to find someplace isolated where we might move her, but until then, Hogwarts will remain her home."

"And her parents?" asked Hermione.

"They are being told right now," he said. "They may choose to see her for a short period of time. No longer than your visit, to be certain. I suspect it will be the only one. There is little hope for her. We've tried everything we know, and quite a few things we don't. She will never wake up."

"And what about the two of you?" McGonagall asked. Her expression was one of shock and dismay.

"I do not know," the Healer told her. "We will see if Poppy shows any signs of the disease. She said that Miss Franklin had been feeling ill for a few days before she lost consciousness. If I see any evidence that she might also be carrying the disease, then we will... proceed in a similar manner. Of course, I will record as much as possible for your investigation, Miss Granger."

Hermione ignored him. She was staring intently at Miraphora.

"Is there nothing that can be done?" asked Professor McGonagall. "Perhaps some other Healers have seen this. We cannot simply let this girl die."

"There is nothing else we can do, Minerva," said Madam Pomfrey. "We will keep trying, but I'm afraid the best we can hope to do is keep her in her current state. I haven't seen even the faintest twitch of her eyelids since Remus brought her down. That's no way for a girl to—"

"Look at this!" shouted Hermione over the discussion. "Come here! Her eyes! They're moving!"

Ginny and everyone else in the room stepped forward to get a better look at the girl's face. Just as Hermione had said, Miraphora's eyes seemed to be moving. The lids were still closed, but even they were fluttering lightly. Other than the random quivering of her lips, the rest of her body remained as still as ever.

After almost a minute of tense waiting, Madam Pomfrey pulled her wand from her robes and slowly passed it over the girl's body. "I don't understand it," she whispered. "She should be dead. There's nothing—" Her voice was cut short as Miraphora's head jerked slightly on its pillow. The muscles in her jaw were tensing.

"Miss Franklin!" called Madam Pomfrey. "Can you hear me?" She slowly reached forward and grabbed the girl's shoulder. In an instant, Miraphora's eyes were open. Madam Pomfrey let out a shriek as she recoiled in fear.

Ginny found herself staring into a pair of featureless eyes which looked as though they had been filled with the blackest ink. They stared back at her, showing no sign of movement or emotion.

The room was getting warmer, but Ginny's blood felt icy. Everyone had frozen. Ron had pulled his wand from his pocket. Hermione had pressed her hand against her mouth. The girl's mouth opened, drawing in a long, rattling breath. Still staring at Ginny with unblinking eyes, her mouth opened.

She began speaking with a slow, deliberate voice, but the sounds coming out of her mouth were not from any language Miraphora Franklin could have known. Only a few wizards could have understood her, but Ginny had heard it often enough to recognize it almost immediately.

She was speaking Parseltongue, and though Ginny couldn't translate it, it was familiar to her. She had heard Harry saying the same thing in his sleep only one day ago.

* * *

The moment the girl had opened her eyes, a sharp stabbing pain had sliced through Harry's head. He had barely choked back a startled shout. The pain was not the worst he had felt, but he had been completely unprepared for it. 

He had stepped forward, heedless of the possibility of others hearing his footsteps. He crept up behind Ginny, never taking his eyes from the glassy black eyes of Miraphora Franklin. _What happened to her?_ he asked himself. He felt his heart racing and his breathing quickening. _Something is wrong,_ his mind screamed. He watched her mouth open and he knew what she would say before the hissing even began.

_Across the endless wastes and timeless sands  
Born of atrocity and boundless pain..._

Harry began backing away. He suddenly felt very exposed. Her eyes had no pupils and yet he knew beyond any doubt that she could see him. She knew he was there. He stumbled, but caught himself before he fell. He couldn't stay. He had to leave. He had to get away.

He began walking toward the door. A voice in his head told him to stay. It told him that Miraphora would answer whatever questions he had. She would help him. She would keep Ginny safe.

_Ginny._

Harry's eyes searched wildly for her. She too seemed to be searching for something. The last bit of color drained from her face as the girl continued hissing the same words Harry had heard so many times:

_With vengeance, rage, and eternal hate_  
_I come to claim what I have been denied_

"Ginny?" Ron called out. "Is something wrong?"

"I— I have to go..." she mumbled.

"Why? What is it?" he asked.

"I... I can't be here," she said with greater urgency. "I need to leave. Right now!"

Harry was already walking quickly toward the door, but Ginny closed the distance in just a few seconds and passed by him with a rush of air. Taking this as a cue, he turned and ran after her. She struck the door seconds ahead of him, quickly turning the knob and heaving it open just in time for Harry to dash through the opening.

Now that Harry was out of the hall, he lost all desire to get any nearer to Miraphora Franklin. He only wanted to run, to escape. He ran down the corridor, hearing the loud sounds of Ginny's shoes running behind him.

"Harry!" she called out in a breathy voice.

Harry slowed abruptly and turned around. Ginny was doubled over in the middle of the corridor, gasping for breath.

"Are you alright?" he whispered, as he walked back toward her. He quickly checked the corridor for any other wizards, but saw no one. "Why did you run?"

She took a few deep breaths and looked up at him. "I ran because I knew you would. What she said... I've heard it before, haven't I?"

"Yeah."

Ginny nodded and continued breathing. "What does it mean?" she asked. "What did she say? What have you been dreaming of? Why won't you tell me?"

Harry didn't know what to say. He wanted to tell her, but he couldn't. He trusted her, and yet, he didn't even know what it meant. He had been convinced it was just a trick of Grigore's, but Grigore was dead now. "I will, I promise," he told her, though he didn't want to think of just when he would fulfill that promise. "Now isn't the right time. It's... complicated."

"How complicated can it be?" she pressed. "It was Parseltongue, wasn't it? You can still understand it. It must mean something."

"It was just the same thing I always hear in my dreams. It's nothing. It's just the same old thing, over and over." He paused for a moment, during which time Ginny seemed to be waiting for him to tell her exactly what he'd heard. He decided to change the subject. "When you go back to the Ministry, ask Josef if everything is going all right at the Castle. Ask him if there are any problems with attacks or Brotherhood members who don't seem to be happy with the recent changes."

Ginny's mouth fell into a confused frown. "You think the Brotherhood is involved?"

"You said it yourself," he said in an even tone, "you've heard it before. I didn't have those dreams before I met Grigore and the Brotherhood. Maybe Josef knows why that might be."

"Maybe it's nothing," she suggested. "You heard Madam Pomfrey. Whatever is happening, it's making her read the thoughts of everyone in the room. Maybe she just read your memories and was repeating them back."

"Yeah," he replied distractedly. "Maybe you're right. Maybe that's all it ever was. Still, I'd feel better if you asked him about it."

"Alright," she agreed. "Meet me at the main gates. Tonight. I'll come back at sunset. I'll see you then?"

"Yes," he said with an invisible nod.

"And Harry," she whispered, "promise me you won't go back to see her."

"Don't worry, I won't."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Odd. This chapter was about to be cut off halfway through as well. My story hates itself. Its trying to make itself shorter. Oh well, it's fixed now.

Enjoy.

Oh, and I wanted to thank everyone for the reviews. It's nice to know the story is appreciated. I hope everyone continues to enjoy it. It's going to change and twist faster than you might expect.


	5. Unanswered Questions

**CHAPTER 5**

**Unanswered Questions**

* * *

Ginny heard the sound of footsteps running up from behind her. She turned to find Tonks and Simon striding toward her with their wands drawn. 

"What happened?" Tonks asked nervously. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," replied Ginny. "I'm not sure what happened, but I'm fine."

More footsteps were echoing down the corridor. A moment later, Ron and Hermione appeared around the corner. Lupin was following them and by the sound of the measured steps approaching, McGonagall wasn't far behind. As Ron and Hermione came to an abrupt stop, they both began looking about as though they expected to see someone else with Ginny.

"Is everything alright?" Ron asked.

Ginny shook her head. "No, Ron. We might be fine, but everything is _definitely_ not alright."

Lupin walked up to her and put his hand on her shoulder in a comforting manner. "You recognized that, did you?" he asked, already knowing the answer. "It was Parseltongue, wasn't it?" Ginny nodded slowly. "Do you have any idea what it might have meant?" he asked gently.

"No," she answered. "No, I just— I just know what it sounds like."

McGonagall walked around the last corner and joined the impromptu meeting taking place in the middle of the corridor. "Remus, I felt it again just now. I would swear it's the same feeling I've been having for the past few days. Could this girl be causing all of it?"

"I don't know," he said, still looking at Ginny. "Did you _feel_ anything when Miraphora was speaking to you?"

Ginny frowned as she tried to think of what Lupin might be asking. How was she supposed to respond? The girl had been speaking to Harry, and Harry hadn't said anything about feeling anything when it happened. "I don't know what you mean," she replied, if only to give her more time to think of a response.

Lupin nodded and tried a different question. "After everything you saw and talked about yesterday, have you been thinking at all about what happened seven years ago? Have you been having any memories or dreams that might have included Parseltongue?"

"I— I mean— I don't think so..."

"But you have been thinking about it, haven't you?" Lupin continued to press her. "You do still have memories of it?"

"Of course, but—"

"We can't be certain," he began explaining, "but after what Poppy said, it seems likely that Miss Franklin is somehow reading the thoughts of those around her and even pushing them back onto others. Such an ability would be almost impossibly rare, even for a wizard. Even the best Legilimens have not been able to manipulate the thoughts of others without a hex. Yet, she is doing it, and I am almost certain she doesn't any control over it."

This didn't seem to make McGonagall happy at all. "If you are right, then this power she's showing cannot be contained by simply keeping her in the Hospital Wing. Is she a danger to the other students?"

"I don't believe so," Lupin answered hesitantly. "It's possible that whatever disease she has is causing her to perform unfocused unintentional magic. So far, she has not harmed anyone."

"What about the attack?" asked Ron. "Did she do that, too?"

"It's possible," Lupin replied. "We won't know until we understand how this disease works. However, I think we now know enough that we might be able to find some other mention of it. It must have come from somewhere. We just have to find it. I Valencia is already searching. Will the three of you help us?" he asked, looking at Ron, Hermione and Ginny.

Ron frowned, but Hermione glared at him and answered for him: "Yes, of course. I'll send a message off to the Ministry to request any books they might have on wizarding diseases."

Lupin nodded. "Ginny, if you would follow me, I could use some help sorting through all of the books in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. I'm sure there are a number of books which talk about diseases and ailments, but it would take me hours to find them alone"

"I'm sorry, Professor," she apologized, "but I really need to head back to the Ministry and speak with Mr. Harrington. I should be back shortly after sunset. I'd be happy to help you then."

Lupin frowned but accepted the news without complaint. McGonagall nodded to them and walked off. Lupin followed her, heading off to his classroom. At the front door, the two Aurors stopped and seemed to settle into their guard posts. Ron and Hermione turned to head off toward the owlery, leaving Ginny to walk alone toward the front gates of Hogwarts and the nearest Disapparation point.

She hadn't been walking for longer than a minute before Justinian joined up with her. He didn't say much, only that he felt that no one should be walking about the grounds alone, considering the recent event. Ginny was glad for the company. It was getting to be late afternoon, and the shadows from the trees were already starting to cross over the path. The Aurors at the gates greeted them respectfully. She wished them a good evening and Disapparated.

* * *

Ginny had expected to draw more attention when she returned to the Ministry. Instead, she Apparated into the Atrium and received little more than a few curious glances from a group of wizards queued in front of one of the fireplaces along the wall. 

As she walked toward the golden security gate, the guard behind the desk looked up to nod at her. "Good afternoon, Miss Weasley," he said. "I believe you have a visitor. Mrs. Reading sent someone down to escort him the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

Ginny acted as though this was exactly what she had expected. She hoped that the visitor was Josef. She was no longer in any mood for surprises. She had had quite enough of them for the day and now she only wanted answers and explanations. If Josef couldn't give them to her, then perhaps she could find someone else who would.

She stepped off the lift when she got to the correct level and began walking down the corridor that led to Carmilla's desk. She wasn't sure if she should expect another confrontation in the lobby or if Mrs. Reading had already dealt with all of that. She paused just before turning the last corner. Cautiously, she peered around the corner.

Carmilla smiled and gave her a friendly wave. Ginny smiled in response as she walked into the small lobby area.

"Mr. Kantos is waiting by your office," announced Carmilla. "He only got here fifteen minutes ago. Also, Mrs. Reading and Mr. Harrington wanted to speak with you. They said to assure you that it wasn't anything you needed to worry about."

Ginny turned to look down the corridor at Mr. Harrington's office. The door was closed and not even a whisper of sound could be heard. He must have cast a Silencing Charm, she realized. From all accounts, he had been working rather long hours since the attack on the Ministry. Ginny wondered what he was doing just now. Did he know that Josef was there? Would he be angry with her when he saw her?

Ginny sighed and began walking down the corridor. If he would be, there was nothing she could do about it now. She'd done what she needed to do. The last time she'd seen him, he seemed to be helping them. She could only hope he hadn't changed his mind.

"Ginny!" Carmilla cried out from behind her. Ginny spun around quickly and was already reaching for her wand when she saw the surprised look on Carmilla's face. "I'm sorry," she apologized, "I was just going to tell you that it's nice to have you back."

"Thanks," Ginny replied before turning around and straightening her robes. As she passed Harrington's office, she considered whether it might be worth it to put a sign on her back to tell people not to surprise her any more that day.

Reaching for her wand had not been an unreasonable response, but she still scolded herself for doing it. Carmilla had only startled her, but Ginny's reaction had frightened the older witch. Making a quick grab for a wand was a good way to end up getting hexed for no reason. Things around the Ministry were still tense, and though Harrington and the Minister had given her job back, she wasn't sure how many other wizards would be that forgiving.

She kept her head down as she walked past the bank of cubicles where she had worked only a few weeks ago. There were still a number of witches and wizards walking about, and she wasn't interested in talking to any of them just then. A few of them tried to greet her, but she responded with non-distinct nods and mumbled excuses as she continued on her course.

She reached the corridor that led to her office, but much to her disgust, she was faced with an obstacle that wasn't quite so easily avoided. In this case, the obstacle was glaring at her from behind a shabby curtain of dark, tangled hair.

"You're back," Evelyn groaned. "I'm... glad to see you alive and well."

"No," Ginny said, shaking her head. "You're not."

Evelyn smiled and blinked her eyes playfully. "Well, I am glad I don't have to fill out the Employee Death forms. Though... I would," she said with a slight smirk, "if that sort of thing were needed."

"That's nice," Ginny said impatiently. "Good luck with that. In the meantime, could you step aside?"

Evelyn remained in the center of the corridor. "What was that, the third time you've nearly been killed?" she continued, her voice taking on a cutting tone. "You aren't trying to be like _him_ are you?" she asked as she stepped closer. "Do you want us to call you 'The Girl Who Lived' now?"

Ginny simply glared in response.

"Nothing to say," jeered Evelyn. "No trite barbs or regurgitated jokes?" She stepped even closer. "I know your type. You've gotten everything you wanted when you didn't earn it or deserve it. You might have blinded Harrington, but I know what you really are."

Her voice dropped to a harsh whisper. "Luck doesn't last forever, Ginevra. You'll fail. You'll make a mistake that you can't fix. You'll lose _everything_ and you'll be _nothing_ just like you always should have been. I only pray that I'll be there to see it."

"Ginny is a far greater witch than your language is capable of describing," said a familiar voice.

Ginny looked up and found Josef standing only feet away from them. His eyebrows were raised menacingly and his eyes flashed with restrained anger. Josef stepped even closer, slipping his shoulder between Ginny and Evelyn.

"I would expect lesser witches and wizards like you to have a difficult time measuring yourselves against her," he continued. "She has power and strength that you simply cannot understand."

"Oh, I understand what her power is," Evelyn laughed bitterly. "It's old. It's as old as civilization itself. Men both magical and Muggle have fallen victim to it. All she needs is an hour and a dark room and she gets whatever she wants: promotions, honors, cover ups, favors."

Josef's expression was frozen. "You are wrong. You're too blinded by your hatred to see the truth."

"Even if I were blind, it would be enough to see that she's already taken control of you," spat Evelyn. "She is the Liaison to Romania, not you. How many hours have you spent with her? Why do you keep returning to London?" She didn't wait for an answer.

"Are you completely daft? It's the oldest spell in the book," she laughed. "You're all pathetic. A flip of her hair and a ruffle of her skirt and you're willing to lie just to make her feel good. Do you think she would ever care about you? You know who she used to date, don't you. When were you going to tell her that your parents had been murdered by a dark wizard? Did you think that might make her love you?"

"You don't know what you're talking about," Josef replied in a slightly threatening tone. It was the first time Ginny could remember seeing him truly angry. "You're just a miserable witch whose hatred for the entire world is overshadowed only by your hatred for yourself. You will never be half the witch that she is. And I will warn you only once: Do not look too deeply into my past. You are not clever enough to survive what you will find."

Evelyn stared back at him with a slight smirk. "You weren't this hostile last time we spoke," she said smoothly. "We spent the entire night talking, and you seemed to enjoy it. I thought you were actually rather charming. You never made any move to leave my office until she showed up."

Ginny turned to try and tell Josef to keep quiet, but it was too late.

"That is because I had no reason to leave your office," he replied quickly. "I assure you, I was merely being polite. My business was with Ginny and I was not about to endanger that by creating a scene. The situation is different now."

"Different," Evelyn repeated. "Yes, it is different. You're different. Almost as if you were a completely different person. But that's not possible, is it Ferdinand?"

Ginny spun around to see Ferdinand Harrington walking toward her. His expression was unrecognizable.

"I don't see how that could be possible, no," he said as she stepped next to Ginny. "Perhaps your attitude might have something to do with the difference. Perhaps it could be the events of the last week as well. It would be wise of you to remember that Mr. Kantos has had to deal with trouble in both Britain and Romania."

Evelyn's eyes narrowed to dark, smoldering slits. "You've got him as well, then?" she asked Ginny. "You think you're clever, don't you. You think you've got everything covered." She leaned close to Ginny. "You don't. Whatever you're doing, I'll find out and I'll make you pay. I swear I will."

"Enough," Harrington said. "If Miss Weasley had any control over me, she would be paid much better than she is. Now, I'm sure she and Mr. Kantos have business to attend to—"

"—Oh, I'm sure they do—" sneered Evelyn.

"—and you and I have something we need to discuss in my office," he continued, ignoring her comment. Evelyn scowled at him, but he was undeterred. "You know the Minister is involved in this now, Evelyn. I can't have you accosting foreign wizards in the corridors of the Department of International _Cooperation_," he told her. "Now follow me, and let's see if we can put that mind of yours to more productive uses."

Without even looking at Ginny, Evelyn slipped past her and began walking to Harrington's office before he had even moved. Ginny gave him a weak smile and thanked him.

"You're welcome, I guess," he said with a strange uncertainty in his voice. "I'll want to speak with you as well before you go. It shouldn't take long. Cordelia and I would just like to get a quick update and pass along the most recent development."

Ginny nodded, wondering exactly what that development might be. He couldn't think that she knew less than Robards had learned the previous day, could he? Or was he simply trying to continue the charade that she had only discovered the problems at Hogwarts that morning. She wanted to ask him what it was just then, but knew that he would never answer her in the middle of a corridor. She agreed to talk with him later and led Josef to her office. The moment Ginny closed the door behind her, Josef began speaking.

"Before we begin, I would like to apologize for my actions this morning. I was not thinking. I should have expected that you two would— I mean, if I were in his place—" he stopped himself and looked away. "He has sacrificed a year of his life. It would be unfair to demand that he sacrifice any more. Not only has he kept himself alive, but he has kept you safe as well. For that, he has my respect."

Ginny slowed to stare back at Josef for a moment. She had not expected such an apology. Indeed she hadn't even seen a need. Of course, Harry had told her that Josef had a tendency to be overly formal, and yet, there was still something odd about it. Unable to think of any way to respond, she simply nodded silently.

"Now, as for the incident which I just caused in the corridor, I fear I owe you yet another apology. Am I correct in assuming I said something I shouldn't have?"

"I'm afraid so, but it wasn't your fault," Ginny replied as she flopped down into her chair. "It wasn't anyone's fault, really. She would have found a way." Ginny gestured toward a chair and leaned back in hers. "One week ago, while you and your mates were attacking the goblins at Gringott's, Harry walked into the Ministry disguised as you."

"Yes, I knew that only hours after he arrived."

"Right, well when I arrived to meet him that morning, he and Evelyn were talking, but they were talking in _this_ office. Harry had been waiting _here_ for me, not in Evelyn's office. It's not the sort of thing you would have forgotten."

Josef rubbed at his forehead. "Yes. Yes, I see." he said with a sigh. "How much might she know? She'll guess that either I or the wizard here a week ago was not who we said we were. Could she have any guess who the other wizard might be?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. No one knew he was alive except..." Her voice trailed off. Reynard knew. Quite a few wizards in the Department of Mysteries knew. Even Hermione had heard the rumors, and that was exactly what Evelyn was paid to do: to collect and analyze rumors. "She couldn't know for certain, but it's an assumption she might arrive at pretty quickly," she admitted.

"Harry and his bloody need to be friendly," groaned Josef. "Why couldn't he just shut himself in your office? Would Mr. Harrington believe her if she tells him?"

"Harrington already knows about Harry," Ginny said, earning a shocked stare from Josef. "He found out when we escaped from the Ministry. He helped us then, and he's kept Harry's secret for the past week. I don't think he'll stop now."

"Very well. You'll want to tell Harry about this. I know I was the one to suggest that he not reveal himself just yet, but he will need to do it sometime soon. If Evelyn can prove that he's alive, I fear the Ministry might try to blame him for the attack at Hogwarts."

"They're already trying," Ginny replied. She quickly explained the mysterious occurrences around and inside the school over the past few months. Josef seemed to recognize some of the things she said, but he did not stop her. She told him about Lupin's suggestion that it might be Harry's ghost and how it had only gotten worse after the attack.

"Well, some of this I can explain," Josef told her. "The cloaked figure stalking the Hogwarts grounds since last spring was —of course— me. I truly was watching and following you. I have been since Christmas.

"I was the one to suggest that Harry would go to your family's house on Christmas. He never would have shown himself, but I knew he thought of your family as his own and he missed them. I tried to convince Grigore that I could get Harry to return, but he was certain that Harry would fight us. He sent a pair of more seasoned Brotherhood members. One of them escaped, the other died when his curse rebounded off one of those blasted Shield Cloaks he's always wearing."

"You've been following me since January?" Ginny asked, shocked.

"Yes," Josef answered with a nod. He looked almost embarrassed. "I watched you and I protected you. After he heard of what happened at Christmas, Grigore admitted his mistake and allowed me to keep an eye on you. We were convinced Harry would return to you eventually. However, unlike most of the Brotherhood, I only wanted to talk with Harry, not kill him. I could see the changes in Grigore already. He spent too much time looking into the Veil. It was rotting his mind."

"Why didn't you just tell me?" Ginny asked. "I would have helped you."

"Would you?" replied Josef with a raised eyebrow. "If I would have approached you, so would have Harry. He would have said that I was going to kill both of you. I would have said I only wished to speak to you. Who would you have believed? If he would have attacked me, who would you have helped?"

Ginny didn't need to answer. They both already knew what she would have done.

With a knowing look, Josef continued. "The closer it got to the end of your last year at Hogwarts, the closer I watched you. I was certain that Harry would come to Hogwarts to find you." He began counting the reasons off on his fingers: "It was safe. He could hide easily. He had friends who would help him. It would be hard for the Brotherhood to maintain any decent presence there. I began to worry that he might speak with you while wearing that bloody Invisibility Cloak. I had to be a little more aggressive with my surveillance, and that meant that I was spotted on occasion. Luckily your Aurors were never able to catch me."

"They never really tried," commented Ginny. "They were convinced you were Harry."

"Yes, I know," he said with a nod, "and that only reinforced my belief that Harry truly was there. Unfortunately, he was not, and so, when you left, so did I."

"But the sightings didn't stop."

"No. I returned on a few occasions, when we lost track of Harry. Until Aleksey told us you had mentioned a house you were hiding in, we had been convinced that Harry had found some way to hide in Hogwarts. However, I was never spotted over the summer. The other sightings were almost certainly other Brotherhood members being sloppy."

"So they were the reason so many students started asking about Harry?"

Josef frowned and nodded. "I would have to assume so," he answered. "It's an old trick that Grigore taught us. In a way, it's similar to the Imperius Curse, but it is more subtle. It only suggests curiosity and willingness to try what the caster desires." He paused and looked away from her. "It has... the potential to accomplish vile deeds, but we have only ever used it to find information. To that end, it can be quite useful. I'm certain they were only trying to discover if Harry had been seen there."

"Well, you should have known where he was soon after that," Ginny replied. "Why did they keep looking?"

Josef stared at her. "They didn't," he answered simply. "Grigore called the Granger girl to Albania to draw Harry out. No one was left at Hogwarts."

Ginny took a moment to collect her thoughts. She didn't think that Josef would lie to her. There was really no point. In other situations, perhaps, but he had just given her detailed information about the Brotherhood's attempts to track Harry. Why would he start lying to her now?

"So, what about the mirrors?" she asked him, though she was afraid she already knew what he would say.

"Mirrors?" He shook his head slowly. "I don't know what you're talking about. The girl was found with a mirror. Were there more mirrors found before then?"

Ginny briefly explained what Tonks had told her the day before. The more she explained, the more interested Josef became. He had no explanations for her, only questions and guess.

"Perhaps it is supposed to have some sort of meaning," he suggested. "This attack seemed to be more of a symbolic thing than an attempt to truly do any harm. Did Harry say anything about it? Did it seem that it made any sense to him?"

Ginny couldn't really say if it did or not. They hadn't talked about it much. This only annoyed Josef who felt that they had all wasted hours of valuable time in the Room of Requirement. Ginny decided to swallow her own annoyance that Josef hadn't made any better use of his time either. From the way in which he was speaking, he'd known of the attack only shortly after she had, and yet, he had no more answers than she did.

"Are you saying that the Brotherhood wasn't involved in this?" she finally asked, forcing him to address the issue at hand.

"No," he answered quite directly. "I spoke with Dragomir and Ileana. They have both denied having any part in this."

"What about Marcus Lipton?" she pressed. "His son, Marius, was the boy who found the girl. Marius received an owl only days before the attack, suggesting Marcus thought he and his son were in danger. We saw him in Romania. He wanted to kill Harry."

Josef's face darkened and he took a deep breath. "Marcus Lipton had no part in this. He—"

"How can you be certain?" she snapped. "Desperate wizards can pull off amazing things."

"Marcus Lipton is dead," announced Josef.

Ginny felt the frustration welling up from her stomach. "You killed him, didn't you?" There was something hesitant in his voice that convinced her she was right. They had found him, but instead of questioning him, they'd simply killed him, possibly after he refused to cooperate. She glared at Josef. "We needed to _talk_ to him. If he knew what has happened to the girl then he might have been able to cure her. You scolded Harry for throwing hexes before thinking, but you were pretty quick to kill Marcus Lipton."

"We didn't kill Marcus," corrected Josef. "We... don't know how he died, but he couldn't have been involved in this attack. He must have died shortly after sending that message to his son. They found his body in a remote village in northern Spain."

"And that couldn't have been one of the Brotherhood members?" she asked skeptically. "You're not having any more troubles at the Castle, are you? Harry wanted to know if any of the wizards there have been acting strangely."

She didn't need to clarify. Josef seemed to understand immediately. "Tell Harry that the Brotherhood has been performing their duty for millennia and we are still performing it today. The chamber was sealed and it will remain sealed. It has been hidden and the secret of its location will be lost to the sands of time. I understand his concerns," he continued, "but they serve no purpose. The Brotherhood did not do this. I don't know who did."

There was one explanation he hadn't really considered. Ginny's stomach tightened at the thought, but she had to ask. "When they found him... his skin, was it... blackened or discolored anywhere?"

"Blackened? No..." his voice trailed off, "at least, I don't think so. I don't know if anyone could really say. The body was unrecognizable. Dragomir only learned of it yesterday. The Spaniards couldn't identify him. We only found out about it today when we began looking for unexplained deaths." He paused to take a deep breath. "I saw it with my own eyes. He had locked himself in a room, and yet it looked as if... some animal perhaps."

His eyes found Ginny's and she saw a hint of fear behind them. "His fate found him, though I don't know how. There are still many Brotherhood wizards about, and we cannot even account for all of those who are still loyal to Dragomir. Many of them view the ones who ran as traitors. There have been two other deaths, but nothing this... messy. If I was forced to guess, I would say that it was the work of your own Ministry."

"The Ministry doesn't _murder_ wizards."

"Auguste Reynard does," Josef replied. "You're naive if you think he hasn't. Marcus Lipton was more than just a Brotherhood member. He was a trusted employee of the Department of Mysteries. That's why we recruited him. He knew things that few other wizards knew. Then, only a few days after Reynard finds out that he's a member of the Brotherhood, he's dead and Reynard is making a deal with Dragomir to trade information. I think that's a little more than suspicious."

Ginny wasn't certain what to think after hearing that. There was a silent confidence in Josef's eyes that was difficult to ignore. He was being honest with her. She was certain of that.

"Marcus was hiding from something," Josef continued. "He ran to Spain to escape us, but he locked himself in that room to hide from someone else. We weren't in Spain. We weren't chasing him. Someone else was. I don't know who else would want him dead other than Reynard. He is ambitious and dangerous. This is something he could do."

"And the girl?" Ginny asked. "Why her? Why attack her?"

Josef leaned back in his chair and started trying to explain. As he spoke, Ginny's mind made the connections only seconds before he said them. Marcus Lipton had disappeared after last being seen in Romania. Then he died just as a mysterious new disease shows up in the school his son was attending. Everyone would blame Romania, and when they noticed the similarities to the previous attacks, they would blame her and they would blame Ron and Hermione.

It was almost perfect. The only problem was the fact that no one seemed to have any idea what disease Miraphora had been given. If Madam Pomfrey was right and it was spreading, then Reynard would have to miraculously produce the cure soon, or risk causing more problems than he had solved for himself. There was just one more thing she wanted to know.

"Where is the Parseltongue from? What does it mean?"

Josef's neck straightened and he stared back at her searchingly. "What are you talking about?" It was a different sort of question. He wasn't asking conversationally anymore. It felt more like a demand for more information.

Reluctantly, Ginny answered. "In the Hospital Wing, something happened and the girl began speaking Parseltongue." She briefly explained everything that Madam Pomfrey had told them as well as a description of what had happened after Miraphora had opened her eyes.

Josef spoke slowly, keeping his eyes on her at all times. "I don't speak Parseltongue. Why would I..."

"I thought maybe you might have heard—" Ginny stopped abruptly, sensing something odd about Josef's mood. It had changed suddenly and was now tense and focused.

"You thought I might have heard it before," he finished for her. "Any why would I have done that?" When she didn't answer, he leaned closer to her. "You thought I might have heard Harry speaking it... like you have."

Ginny felt her stomach drop. Harry hadn't told anyone. She had simply assumed that Josef would know about it. She had been wrong.

"Harry is a Parselmouth," said Josef. "He has the ability to speak Parseltongue whenever he likes, and yet, you recognized the same speech twice, didn't you? Was it in verse?"

"In what?"

"Verse," Josef repeated impatiently. "Did it have structure and rhythm, like a poem or chant?"

"Or incantation?" Ginny asked, knowing exactly what Josef didn't want to ask.

"Perhaps," he said with a slight nod. "Why are you asking me? Why not ask Harry?" He paused again, waiting for a response that wouldn't come.

It was too late to try and deny what she'd said. She wanted answers and Harry would simply have to forgive her. "It started when he joined the Brotherhood," she said, the words spilling out of her mouth. "I heard him speaking it in his sleep. He hasn't told anyone about it. He won't even tell me about it. It's got something to do with the Veil in that chamber in Romania. I know it."

Josef's eyes were flitting around the room as though he were deep in thought, though all he managed to say was: "Yes, that does seem curious." When Ginny pressed him for more information, he awoke from his thoughts, but kept his eyes looking down at her desk.

"Your initial guess is almost certainly the correct one," he said in a detached voice. "This is merely a symptom of the girl's condition. She was reading the thoughts of the other two, she undoubtedly read Harry's as well. At the very least, we know she was able to sense his presence. She was probably just reciting one of his dreams."

The explanation was simple enough, but there was something wrong about the change in Josef's demeanor. "There's more to it, isn't there? Please, tell me," she begged.

"I know many things. Some of them, I wish I did not," he replied cryptically. "Ignorance is not always a disease to be cured, Ginny. There are things I know which no one would choose to learn if they truly understood the consequences. I do not wish to force you to make that choice until I know if that is the destination you will arrive at."

"You do know something. What is it? What are you trying to hide from me?"

Josef looked up at her. "Disinformation. Fiction. Lies. I am only trying to keep you from taking rumors and stories as truth. Just as truth is often more bizarre than fantasy, rumors are often more troubling than reality. That is all I have now: rumors and conjecture."

"Why not tell me now?" she argued. "Let me help you find the truth."

"You have more than enough to keep you busy already," he replied. "Keep an eye on Harry. I will have to trust you and his friends to convince him to act sensibly. Whatever other purpose might be behind this attack, I do not doubt that the one who has planned it would consider it fortunate if Harry were to become entangled in it." Josef stood up and gave her a courteous nod.

"You're leaving?" she asked even as she winced inwardly at the stupidity of the question.

"I have other things which I must attend to. I'm afraid they are just as pressing as your own duties," he told her. "I believe you need to speak with Mrs. Reading and Mr. Harrington. While you are there, perhaps you could pass along a message, if it is not too late."

"Er, sure," she said awkwardly.

"Tell them to remind Miss Sibley to be careful. Some answers do not want to be found," he said. "If I am correct, he has given her an assignment which is more perilous than she will understand. I will trust you to be suitably convincing."

Then, with a last nod, he stepped to the door, opened it and slipped through the opening to the dim corridor, leaving Ginny alone in her office.

* * *

After taking a few minutes to relax and try to make sense of her conversation with Josef, Ginny too stood up and made her way to the door. She hadn't gotten all of the answers she wanted, but the information she did get was still quite useful. 

Marcus Lipton was dead. He could not have been the one to attack Miraphora Franklin. And yet, it was obvious that he was the key to understanding how and why it occurred. Something unpleasant had happened to him. That much was certain. It was still a mystery _who_ had done it. Josef seemed confident that it was not the Brotherhood, but she was just as confident that it was not the Ministry. It was difficult to believe that even Auguste Reynard would resort to such violence.

Perhaps that was what Josef had been talking about when he had said that he knew more than he would have liked. The Brotherhood had been sharing and stealing information with the Department of Mysteries for quite some time, perhaps even years. The Department of Mysteries was almost a separate Ministry. It was the only Department which regularly kept secrets from the Minister. In the past, this was done simply to allow the Minister to truthfully deny knowledge of the research being done. Recently it was becoming more of a liability.

Did Josef learn something which had given him some cause to worry? Whatever it was, Ginny seemed to be getting uncomfortably close to it and that meant that Harry was involved. As she neared the door to Harrington's office, a realization struck her.

Josef had said that the Veil had some effect on Tarus. He said it had been rotting his mind. There was also a Veil in the Department of Mysteries. Ginny remembered a conversation with Tarus where he had implied that the wizards in the Department of Mysteries had been trying to understand the Veil for years. If Reynard had spent years working on it, could it have started to affect him?

Ginny had guessed the two arches were somehow connected. Seeing Harry's reaction to the one in Romania had confirmed that. What if whatever killed Tarus knew the Brotherhood had sealed the doors to the chamber? Perhaps it was trying to escape some other way. Ginny felt her stomach clenching at the thought of just how close she was to the Veil. The memory of forcing Harry to stand next to it was almost unbearable.

Harry had spoken Parseltongue then, too. When she had asked Josef about it, she only wanted to know what it meant. Harry's explanation that its meaning wasn't important didn't seem to make any sense. Seeing Josef's reaction only made her even more certain that it truly was important. He seemed to have some idea what it was, but like Harry, he refused to tell her. It was frustrating, but there was still one more person she could talk to.

That would have to wait, though. Harrington's door was open and he was probably waiting impatiently for her.

As she stepped into the doorway, she saw the last person she had wanted to see again that day. Though the door was open, Evelyn was still standing in front of Harrington's desk as he scrawled his name across a number of official looking pieces of parchment. Mrs. Reading was sitting in a chair nearby.

"Come in, Ginny," she said, though her voice had none of the cheer Ginny had come to expect from her.

She stepped into the room and slipped past Evelyn to sit in a chair not far from Mrs. Reading. As she passed, Evelyn flashed a malevolent smile at her.

"There you are," mumbled Harrington as he slid the parchment toward Evelyn. "Show those to Robards. He'll see that you get whatever you need."

"Thank you," she said smoothly. "I will send an owl if there is anything... urgent," she added, casting a dark glance at Ginny.

"Yes, I hope that will not be needed," Harrington replied with a gesture toward the door. "You should go before Robards leaves. He's had a long day as well. I expect he'll want to get out of this place before anything else goes wrong." Harrington stood up to follow Evelyn out of the door, shutting it tightly behind him and tapping it with his wand as he turned back toward Ginny and Mrs. Reading.

"So," he grunted as he looked down at Ginny. "We have a new disease at Hogwarts, do we? Something daunting enough that even the Healers at St. Mungo's would rather lock away than study. It takes quite a bit to convince them that the fame of curing a new disease isn't worth the risk of catching it. Is it?" he asked. "Or has someone convinced them to make a scandal of some new form of dragon pox?"

"It's real," Ginny answered gravely, "and it's as frightening as they made it sound." She continued to describe what she'd seen in the Hospital Wing, skipping over the details that she didn't have explanations for. Harrington took it just as stoically as Josef had, but Mrs. Reading looked more than a little concerned.

"We've got to get her out of that school," she demanded, but Harrington didn't even turn to look at her.

"I don't think we've got anything to worry about, Cordelia," he said calmly. "The disease might spread, but it will never get out of control."

Mrs. Reading looked shocked. "How can you say that? If we assume that now, we might lose our chance to stop it before it spreads across Britain and to other countries. Oh, I don't even want to think of what might happen if this spreads to Norway. We need to get it under control _now,_ Ferdinand. We can't wait—"

"It _is_ under control now, isn't it, Ginny?" The edges of his lips were pulled back slightly as though the though made him feel ill. "This isn't anything your friends in Romania did, is it?"

Ginny shook her head. "I don't think so, sir."

"The cause is somewhere... nearby?"

Ginny's eyes instinctively checked the door. It was still closed tightly. Harrington must have expected the conversation to go in this direction. He would have put a charm on the door to prevent anyone from listening in.

"It looks like it is a definite possibility," she answered, trying to stay just as inexact as he had been. "It also seems as if a Ministry employee has been found dead in Spain. I believe his name is Marcus Lipton."

"Lipton?" mumbled Mrs. Reading. "Where have I heard that—"

"His son was the boy who found Miss Franklin Saturday night," interrupted Harrington. "I doubt the boy has anything to do with it. It seems both too far fetched and too obvious to play any real part. It was just another part of the deception. Is there anything we can do?"

"We don't really know what to do right now," Ginny answered. "We don't even know what is happening yet."

"You're right," he agreed, though Ginny didn't know that she understood exactly what he had agreed with, "it's still too early to do anything. He's probably keeping Granger away from him so he can finish planning whatever it is he's doing."

After Harrington stopped, the room became stiflingly silent. Ginny thought he was making assumptions a little prematurely. Even though she had agreed that the best explanation was some sort of subversive attack by the Department of Mysteries, she hadn't immediately assumed that it was the work of Reynard or anyone working for him. She hadn't completely given up on the idea that it might be some Brotherhood member who had remained loyal to Grigore Tarus. She could tell by the expression of disgust on Harrington's face that he would not be interested in that theory.

After a few more moments of silence, Ginny asked her next question: "You said there was something else you needed to speak to me about."

"Oh, right," replied Harrington, looking even less comfortable with this new topic. "So far as I can work out, there were three targets in the latest attack: Miraphora Franklin, who appears completely innocent; the wizards of Romania, and... your friend." He didn't need to say Harry's name for Ginny to understand what he meant.

"I can trust Minerva McGonagall to give me information about young Miss Franklin. I trust your friend will remain otherwise silent for now. The problem is Romania. While I trust you and know you to be an honest person, your position as Liaison does cause some problems. I need unbiased, uncensored information from Romania if I'm to understand what Reynard is up to and have any chance of trying to stop him. Because of your position, I cannot be assured of either from you."

Ginny's eyes returned to the door. Her mind had worked it out even before he told her.

"We have sent Evelyn out on her very first assignment," he announced gently. "There are some pieces of very specific information we would like her to get, but otherwise, she is free to research and watch whatever she wishes. The primary target is Dragomir Debreczeni. There is another we're interested in, and after that will be a list of whoever spends the most time around them in Romania."

Josef's comments made sense now. "You sent her to Romania? You sent her to spy on the Romanian Ministry? Are you mental?"

"There was no other choice—" began Mrs. Reading.

"Josef is the other target, isn't he?" Ginny asked them. Harrington nodded. She sat back and shook her head in disgust. "Do you have any way to contact her? You have to tell her that what she is doing is far more dangerous than anything I've done. The more questions she is able to answer, the more perilous her time there will become. The wizards there will not think twice about killing her. They'll never let her leave. If she discovers anything you would be interested in, she will be murdered before she is able to send the owl. Josef told me to pass on the message that she should take care when looking into the history of the area. He said she is not ready to handle what she will find there."

"I will pass along that message," replied Harrington. "However, I need information about what is happening more than I need a researcher right now. We only told you because we fully expected you to find out within a matter of days. Along with the disease, we will need you to be thinking about ways of handling the situation if she would be found lurking around Romania. That is, of course, your job."

* * *

When Ginny Disapparated from the Ministry, she felt quite a bit more frustrated than she had expected she would be that day. When Josef had told her a week ago that she would have her job back, she had thought that would mean an end to the stress she had been put through over the last few weeks. Though, she reminded herself that being forced to think of ways to apologize for the almost guaranteed eventuality of Evelyn's capture by Brotherhood wizards was still not as bad as being tied to a chair while a dark wizard tried to kill Harry. 

_He wasn't a dark wizard,_ a quiet voice in her head reminded her.

What had Tarus been? If not a dark wizard, then what? He'd wanted to kill Harry. He'd even threatened to kill her. He'd also saved her life and helped her and Harry escape. There didn't seem to be any explanations.

_He spent too much time looking into the Veil. It was rotting his mind._

Josef's words echoed in her mind. It couldn't be a coincidence. Harry had said just that morning: There were no such things as coincidences. Everyone seemed to be saying that Reynard was acting more ambitious and being more aggressive about it over the last year. The same thing had happened to Tarus. That was what had driven Harry away from the Brotherhood, and what had prompted Josef and Albert to turn on Tarus at the end.

If Reynard had been looking into the Veil, then it would only be a matter of time before they would have to confront Reynard. They would have simply traded one unstable, power-hungry wizard for another. Perhaps this was exactly what it had been like when Tarus was just starting to lose control of himself.

When she Apparated outside the _Leaky Cauldron_, she felt a shiver of nervousness as she approached the door. She had not shown herself in public since fleeing from Romania one week earlier. There was something about simply walking into the pub that made her feel uncomfortably exposed. Still, she wanted answers, and this was the only place left for her to try and get them.

As she stepped into the busy pub, a dozen or more of the patrons turned to look at her. With a few seconds, half of them had turned back to their drinks and companions. The other half put down their drinks and directed their companions to look at her as well. The result was worse than Ginny had hoped.

It took Tom a little longer to spot her. When he finally did, he froze and dropped both his jar and a half-full bottle of Firewhiskey. She gave him a friendly wave and began walking toward him as she scanned the rest of the room for one particular wizard.

"It's, er... nice to see you again, Ginny," he stammered as he slid the days _Daily Prophet_. "To be honest, I was afraid I might have seen the last of you," he said. A few wizards' heads perked up at this, and he quickly added: "We heard about that business at the Ministry. Figured you might have just slipped away and found someplace where you'd never be found. You wouldn't be the first, you know."

"No," Ginny said with a smile, "but where would I get my _Prophet_?"

Tom laughed. "A fine point. Is there anything I can get for you? No charge tonight."

"A butterbeer," she replied, pushing a few coins toward him. He smiled and took them, handing her a freshly opened bottle before turning back to his other customers.

Ginny took her drink and _Prophet_ and turned around, trying to look casual as she scanned the room over the top of the parchment. It was surprisingly busy that night. She didn't even know if he was here. He didn't really have any reason to be. He'd accomplished what he set out to do. There really wasn't any purpose in him coming back, and yet, she had to look. He was her only other chance.

But she couldn't see his comically tall hat anywhere in the room.

She sat down at one of the stools next to the bar and began idly sipping her butterbeer. The sun was already setting. If he wasn't there, there was no reason for her to wait around any longer. Harry would be waiting for her by the main gate.

Suddenly, something caught her attention. Tom was looking directly at her as he wiped down a glass. The moment her eyes met his, his head jerked subtlety toward a dark part of the room not far from the door. Ginny's eyes searched the gloom and found a wizard in a grey hooded cloak staring back at her with piercing eyes. In one hand he held a large, half-empty bottle of something that was definitely not Firewhiskey.

Albert _was_ there. Or perhaps it was Aleksey. She didn't know what to call him. Slowly, she slipped off the stool and walked over to the small table where he was sitting. As she approached, she saw him reach for his wand and loop it at the chair across from him. It slid out gracefully, waiting for her to sit down.

"Well, hello there," he called out in a loud voice. "You're still alive then, are you? Good thing, too. Other ghosts aren't fond of wizards who die young and beautiful. Most of 'em are old when they die. It's bad enough to spend the rest of your death like that without having to do it with someone as pretty as you floating about."

Ginny sat down in the chair and set her bottle on the table in front of her. "It's good to be back, Albert," she replied, then continued in almost a whisper: "Or are you Aleksey?"

"Oh, I'm still the same," he replied in the same slightly obnoxious voice. "I've just lost my hat. I had a bit of a discussion with a few kind wizards from the Ministry a few days back. Nice blokes, really, but they seemed to have some problem with my hat. We negotiated a sort of impromptu exchange: they took my hat and I removed their pants. Not that I'm in need of pants, but you can never have too many."

Ginny ignored him. It was clear that he had not given up on his act. She didn't know why it was important to him, but she didn't see any reason to argue about it just then, so she pretended that it was normal.

"I'm looking for answers," she said in a low voice.

"Excellent," he replied with a mockingly serious nod. He poured himself a glass from his bottle and drained it in a single motion. "You've already gotten past the hard part, then," he slurred. "If you'd have come here looking for questions, it might've taken all night."

"I want to know about Parseltongue," she continued. "I wondered if you might help me figure out what it meant."

Albert sat back and rubbed his chin. "Parseltongue, eh? I used to know a bloke who claimed he could speak it. Of course, it's so rare that none of us knew if he was telling the truth or just hissing gibberish. That's the funny thing about Parseltongue," he said with a smile. "The only ones who seem to have any knowledge about it are the ones who speak it, and there aren't many of them left."

"Maybe you don't need to speak it to know what it's saying," she said. "Maybe you might be able to guess what it is."

"Maybe," he said with a frown. "How'd you hear this Parseltongue?"

"A dream," she answered. She was certain Albert already knew what she was talking about. "It sounded like it was a chant or something like that."

"A chant in Parseltongue," he repeated, looking thoughtful. "Parseltongue's not a language for good wizards. If you heard a chant, I'd hardly say it was a good thing."

"No, I don't think it is,"

Albert's face fell. He drank another glass, then leaned forward, speaking in a voice no one but Ginny could hear.

"How many times have you heard it?"

"Three times now. Once this afternoon."

Albert's expression didn't change at all. "A disturbing pattern, indeed. Why not ask the person who spoke it?"

"He won't tell me."

"And you think I can?"

Ginny spoke firmly: "I think you know what it is, or at the very least, you can tell me why it is happening."

"Yes, perhaps I can," he replied. He poured a glass, and picked it up, offering it to Ginny. Ginny waved her hand. She didn't have time to deal with the after effects. Albert shrugged and drank half of it in one gulp. "Why do you want to know?"

"Something is happening. It would all make sense except for this one part. It has to have some meaning," she told him. "If I can just figure that out, I think the rest will start to make more sense."

"And you've tried asking others?"

Ginny's eyes narrowed in annoyance. He wasn't answering her question. "Yes, I have," she growled. "As soon as I mentioned Parseltongue, they stopped answering any of my questions. There's something about it that doesn't fit. Or maybe it fits too well. All I know is that it's important and no one is willing to talk about it."

"Others might take that as a sign that it is something which should not be asked about. To continue asking when everyone has refused to answer is not perseverance, it's a waste of time."

"This is serious," she snapped.

"Yes, it is," he hissed back at her. "You do not yet understand the question you are asking. Until you do, you can not hope to understand the answer, even if I were able to give it to you."

Ginny let out a frustrated sigh and crossed her arms over her chest. "If you cannot tell me what it means, then can you at least tell me what its purpose is?"

"Sometimes understanding the purpose of a thing is easier once you know that thing's history. We all have stories. In the end, that is all we truly are: a story which has the power to write its own ending. This chant you've heard, I'm sure it has a story as well. Where did it come from? Do you know?"

"Yes," she replied heavily. "I know where it came from." The memory of Harry lying on the platform in the Death Room was still fresh in her mind.

Albert stared at her with knowing eyes. "So, you've seen it then, haven't you?" he whispered. "You've looked through it?"

"The Veil?" she asked, already nodding.

"And what did you see?"

Ginny hesitated for a moment. "Tom Riddle," she answered finally, earning an encouraging smile from Albert.

"You saw what you expected to see," he corrected her. "You saw what it knew you would understand."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that what you saw was not real. It was just a view of something you were not prepared to accept or understand. If you were to return in the future, you might see something completely different. Neither would be real, yet both would be serving the same purpose."

"And the Parseltongue?"

"It is no different," he said with a dismissive wave. "It is simply another manifestation of something beyond your ability to comprehend."

"So it serves no purpose at all?" she asked, letting her voice reveal some of her frustration.

"No, I didn't say that," he replied. "In this case, it is a warning."

"So you _do_ know what it is!"

"I know more about it than you do, yes," he admitted, "but what I know, I cannot tell you. I do not know its meaning. I do not know its purpose. I know only where it comes from and the fact that you are not yet ready to understand it. Just as you looked through the Veil and saw Tom Riddle, you would perceive the meaning of this Parseltongue incorrectly. It will not help you in your current task. It can only harm you."

"How can you know that?"

He looked back at her with a solemn expression. "I know because I understand where it came from. Nothing productive or wholesome has ever come back through that gateway."

Ginny's eyes widened. "You've looked through it, too!" she said much louder than she would have liked. "What did you see?"

"I saw what I expected to see, just as you did."

"Yes, but what was it?" she pressed him. "Was it Voldemort? Did you see Tom?"

"No, I saw something far more threatening. I saw the future."

This was hardly the answer she had been expecting, but no matter how she asked, he would say no more of it. The harder she pushed, the less responsive he became, until finally he slipped his bottle back into his cloak and stood up.

"Do not allow this to consume your mind, Ginny," he warned her. "Do not make the mistakes of a hundred wizards before you. You have work to do. Do it. There's no need for you to worry about this. You will understand it when the time is right."

"There is a Veil in the Department of Mysteries," she told him.

"Yes, there is."

"Reynard may be using it. Josef thinks he might be involved in the attack."

"It's certainly possible."

Ginny took a deep breath, trying not to let herself get angry. "This Parseltongue, it was spoken by the girl who was attacked. I know where it came from. How did it get to _her_?"

"The same way it got to you," Albert answered with a smile. Then he tightened his cloak and began walking to the door.

She called out for him to stop but he ignored her. Within seconds he had walked out of the pub and Ginny was out of her seat chasing him. She yanked the door open and dashed out into Diagon Alley. Standing a short distance away, Albert smiled at her and pulled his wand from his cloak.

"Please!" she shouted, "Don't go!"

It was already too late. Albert had Disapparated with a soft _pop_. She was now standing in the middle of a loose crowd of confused wizards. Suddenly, she felt even more vulnerable than she had when she'd Apparated there. Albert had barely told her anything more than Josef had, and yet she felt she understood the situation a little better. She was even more confident that Reynard was involved, and that only made her more aware of the possibility that he was already having her followed.

There was nothing she could really do about that at the moment. She didn't have the luxury of secrecy anymore. No doubt Reynard had not fought Ginny and Hermione's reinstatements because it would prevent them from being able to hide nearly as well as they had been. For the week they spent at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, no one had known where they were or what they were doing. Now everyone in the Ministry would know exactly where to find her.

She glanced around, trying to take note of everyone in the area. Now that she knew what to look for, it would be easier to notice anyone who seemed to be following her. Satisfied, she closed her eyes, and focused on the _Three Broomsticks_ in Hogsmeade. Seconds later, she was there.

The main road of Hogsmeade was not lit as brightly as Diagon Alley, and Ginny was surprised by just how dark it had become. She began walking towards Hogwarts.

As she walked, she saw witches and wizards turning or pausing to glance at her. Others pretended she wasn't there at all. Was it just an act, or were they truly uninterested in her. It was impossible to tell. The more of them she passed, the more she began fearing those who weren't looking at her more than the ones who were. She was paranoid. She knew it. She just had to get to Hogwarts. She would be safe there.

She picked up her pace and stepped off the main street onto one of the less traveled ones. As she had hoped, there were many less people there to see her. Within a few minutes, she was passing the very last building and was walking along the path which led to the main gate to Hogwarts.

She lit her wand and held it aloft so that it would cast its light across a wider area. She knew that it would only make her more visible to anyone who was watching, but she preferred that to the darkness. She was only minutes from Hogwarts. If the Aurors were still working double shifts, it was possible that the Aurors had already spotted her and were watching her approach.

She reached the top of the last hill before the gate, and saw the pale outline of the gate against the darkened land around it. There was no sign of any trouble. A light blinked into existence near the gate, revealing a pair of shapes flanking it. The Aurors knew she was returning and they were waiting for her at the gate. Harry would be there as well. She felt a flutter in her chest and smiled.

She lowered her wand a bit as she got nearer to the gate. Her arm was tired and it was easier to walk that way. She was looking forward to some relaxation that night. Her whole body felt both tense and exhausted and even the thought of trying to discuss what she'd learned over the last few hours was tiring to her.

The other Auror lit his wand, and suddenly Ginny spotted something she hadn't been able to see before. There was a third person standing on the other side of the gate. They were wearing a cloak, but most definitely not an Invisibility Cloak.

Was it Harry?

Ginny couldn't see any features from her current distance, but she couldn't keep herself from considering it. One of the Aurors had left the gate and was now walking toward her. Had Harry decided to reveal himself? Ginny wasn't certain how she felt about that. It would simplify some things, and yet, it still felt dangerous. There was something else. She felt a tug of disappointment at the thought of Harry being sent to his own room.

"Miss Weasley!" the Auror called out. It was a witch, but it wasn't Tonks. It had to be Zoe Elderbridge, which meant that the one remaining at the gate with the other figure had to be Chatham, the Auror in charge of Hogwarts.

"Welcome back, Miss Weasley," the Auror greeted her. "We expected you earlier."

"I was delayed," Ginny told her.

"That is understandable," the Auror commented. "Ian was afraid that might happen. He offered to call out the other pair of Aurors to escort you from the gates to the castle, but... there was another volunteer."

"Who is it?" she whispered. Before Zoe could respond, the wizard was striding toward her.

"Good evening, Miss Weasley," Justinian Lynch greeted her. "Running late, I see. It's no matter. The students will be attending class inside the castle tomorrow. There wasn't anything for me to do. Professor McGonagall preferred that you not walk about the grounds alone."

"Oh, thank you, I— I suppose that's a good idea," she stammered.

"Is something wrong, Miss Weasley?" the head Auror asked her.

"No," she replied. "No, it's alright. We should go then."

Ginny took a moment to look about the area. Was Harry there? How would she know? Justinian was smiling at her and gesturing for her to join him on the path to the castle. There was nothing she could do.

She would simply have to trust Harry.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

There's quite a bit of really worthless information in this chapter. I mean, it's there, but what in the world does it mean? I realize its occasionally cryptic and often fails to satisfy one's curiosity, but there is point to all of it.


	6. Justinian Lynch

**CHAPTER 6**

**Justinian Lynch**

* * *

"You seem distracted," Justinian said as they walked away from the Aurors. Ginny didn't say anything in response. He was right. She had been so focused on watching and listening for any sign of Harry that she had barely noticed that he was speaking to her. 

"Is everything alright?" he asked as he peered down at her. "Did something happen at the Ministry? Are they going to suspend the Headmistress?"

"No," Ginny replied distractedly. She was more interested in a noise she'd heard somewhere behind her. "At least, they didn't say anything about it," she continued. The sound was coming up the path, but it seemed to be moving much faster than she would have expected Harry to move while wearing an Invisibility Cloak.

"She hasn't said anything about it either," Justinian commented. Ginny felt her heartbeat racing. Whatever had been behind them seemed to have stopped. She couldn't hear anything at all now. Justinian didn't seem to have noticed it. "She spent the rest of the afternoon in her office. I think some of that time was spent with Miss Granger and your brother, but if she thought she was going to be removed, I'm sure she'd have talked to someone. Lupin would take her place, I'd think, but he's been in the Library all day with Valencia."

Ginny heard a light fluttering behind her and her head whipped around to see an indistinct shape only feet from her head. She grabbed for her wand, but before she could even find the right pocket, the shape had passed only inches over Justinian's head. He didn't even flinch.

He paused and let out a quiet laugh. "Sorry about that," he said with a smile. "I knew they would send the owl. I heard it taking off, but didn't think of telling you."

Ginny relaxed and watched the shape of the owl soaring toward the castle. Tied loosely to one of its feet was a loose roll of parchment rustling in the wind.

"They've been waiting for you to return," he told her in explanation. "Miss Granger had begged the Aurors to let her meet you at the gate. McGonagall agreed it was a good idea, but didn't think it was proper to send her out. I think she's concerned about the safety of the grounds for the moment. She sent me instead."

"Do they send owls for everyone who passes though the gate?" she asked.

"Oh, no," he laughed. "You're special. The Headmistress still isn't terribly keen to have you around. Even after whatever happened this afternoon. I don't suppose you can tell me what that was, can you?"

Ginny looked up at him and tried to guess what might have made him ask that question. "I don't know," she answered him. "Even if I were allowed, I'm not certain I could really explain what happened."

"That's what your brother said," he replied with a disappointed tone. "I get the feeling that I'm not really trusted here." He turned to smile at her. "Something strange happens and the first one they suspect is the young professor they hired two months ago."

Ginny tried to comfort him a little, but her mind was still distracted. She had told Harry to meet her. Had the Aurors and Justinian scared him off? Was he following them from the shadows? How was she supposed to make sure he got into the castle if she didn't know where he was?

"You're sure you're alright?" he asked again. "You haven't let the Aurors frighten you with stories about ghosts sneaking about the grounds, have you?"

"No," she replied.

"Right. You've probably already started working out who is behind all of it. Myself, I had only heard rumors until yesterday. As I said: no one really trusts me. The Aurors have questioned me quite a few times already. Now that I think about it, I think they might have suspected it was me for a week or so. After that it was just cryptic questions: 'Have you had any visitors today?' or 'Did you send any students on errands in the forest?'" Justinian shook his head and laughed under his breath. "As if I would try to sneak a visitor past the Aurors or send students into the forest alone."

After his voice died down there was an awkward pause. Ginny wondered if he expected her to comment on the situation. She decided it would be best if she didn't. Though she understood how unfair it was, she wasn't sure if she trusted him either. It wasn't like she expected him to drag her off into the forest and kill her, but there was something about him that made her think twice before revealing just who had been sneaking about the grounds.

When it became obvious to him that she wasn't going to say anything, he let out a disappointed sigh. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I'm doing precisely what I told the others not to."

"What's that?" Ginny asked, breaking her previous silence.

"I'm pressing you for information at a time when you didn't expect it," he explained. "After you left, there was a meeting of sorts. Some of the people there felt you weren't telling them everything you knew. Your brother and Miss Granger stood up for you, of course, but McGonagall was convinced that you weren't being completely honest with them."

"So they were talking about me behind my back?" she asked with latent bitterness.

"It is no worse than them discussing the risks of trusting me with the knowledge of events which had happened within sight of my new home." Ginny could hear her own frustrations mirrored in his voice. "When they asked for my opinion, I told them that I thought they were mistreating you. You have been handling all of this exceptionally well. It must be hard enough for you to listen to Professor Lupin's theories, but to insist that you give up every secret thought you might have had about Harry over the past few months is simply too much."

Ginny didn't know what to say. She was caught off guard by this sudden declaration of sympathy. "I... er— Thanks," she finally choked. "I want to help, but—"

"—But some secrets are too dear to hang on a wall for all to see?"

"Yeah, I guess that's one way of saying it," she replied.

They were nearing Hagrid's old cabin. It was Justinian's cabin, now. The place where Hagrid used to keep a garden was now filled with fenced paddocks and miniature houses. It was clear that while he might have taken Hagrid's place, he was quite different.

As they passed the cabin, Justinian paused. "Please forgive me, but I wonder if I might ask you just one personal question."

Ginny stopped as well, and replied with a hesitant, "Yes?"

"You don't really believe that he's gone, do you?" he asked. Before Ginny could think of an answer, he leaned closer to her, and lowered his voice. "Harry Potter, I mean. You think he's still around. Why? Where does your hope come from?"

"I couldn't say. I guess I just—"

Ginny's voice died the moment she saw it. The evening was dark, darker than she had expected, and her eyes had been focused on her surroundings. As Justinian had leaned forward, she had spotted a simple silver chain hanging from his neck. As she followed it down to his chest, she spotted a dim shape peeking out from behind his cloak.

It was the shape of a segmented circle, gleaming dully in the reflected light of his wand. She could see the parts of two segments, just enough to suggest a third hidden behind his cloak.

Justinian was a Brotherhood member. But why did he still have his talisman?

"I, er... I just—" she stammered as her mind wrestled with the implications of what she was seeing. "I just don't want to give up yet," she answered. "I— I'm loyal to my friends."

"Are you alright?" he asked again, noticing the change in her mood.

"I'm fine," she replied mechanically. "That talisman," she continued slowly, "why are you wearing it?"

He looked down at it. "The only reason someone wears a nice piece of jewelry. It's very old and I admit I'm fond of it."

As he looked down to pull it out of his cloak, Ginny took the opportunity to pull her wand from her pocket and jab it into his chest.

"Why are you here?" she growled. The rest of the Brotherhood members had stopped wearing their talismans. Josef had told her they had all been called back to Romania. None of them were supposed to be at Hogwarts. Josef would have told her if he knew.

"I'm here because Professor McGonagall hired me," Justinian answered stiffly. "What is going on, Ginny?"

"Who are you?" she asked, ignoring him. "Whoever you are, Josef will find you. The best thing you could do right now would be to run. He'll hunt you down, and you better hope that he finds you before the Ministry does."

"Ginny—" Justinian said with a hint of fear in his eyes "—What are you talking about? Josef... Was he the bloke who came to visit you this morning? Why will he come for me? What does the Ministry have to do with this?"

"Enough!" she barked. "If you don't leave this second, I'll stun you and let the Department of Mysteries have you. If you'd seen what they did to the last Brotherhood member they found, you would already be running."

Ginny watched as he stared back at her with an unrecognizable expression on his face. Slowly, his hand was creeping toward a pocket in his robes.

"Ginny... Let's talk about this before you do anything you'll regret." His eyes twitched back toward the main gate. "We can go into my cabin. We'll attract less attention there. Come on, now. There's no need for wands. I'm going to start walking toward the cabin and—"

"No," Ginny said sharply. "No more talking. No more time." She took a quick breath and saw Justinian's eyes widening as he realized what was coming.

"_Stupefy!_"

With the agility of a snake, his left arm twisted to grab her wrist and bend her wrist until it was pointed harmlessly toward the ground. As the beam of red light struck the ground with a fountain of sparks, his other arm shot forward, striking her squarely in the shoulder and knocking her off balance. For a moment, her feet shuffled backward, searching for stable ground. Instead, they found the edge of the path. She toppled onto the soft grass, and found Justinian Lynch standing over her with his wand drawn.

"_Incarcerous!_" he shouted.

Ginny reacted with the first thing she could think of. She aimed her wand and pictured the thin ropes bursting into flame as they leaped toward her. Much to her own surprise, she saw a burst of yellow flame as fire consumed the cords while they shot from his wand. The fire shot up the stream of rope all the way to his wand. He turned, breaking the hex and pulling his wand toward his chest to keep it away from the burst of flame.

His quick movement had tugged the remaining rope backward. He ducked his head and curled around his wand as the fiery cords sprang toward him. His wand was safe, but his cloak wasn't. The ropes struck his back, and slid down to the ground, leaving a smoking trail of sparks down the length of the cloak. He grunted in frustration as he tried to brush the smoldering remnants of the rope from the fabric.

Meanwhile, Ginny was scrambling back to her feet and trying to figure out just what she needed to do. While Justinian struggled with his cloak, she ran off toward the cottage. She needed time to think. Why was he there? Was he looking for Harry?

_Harry._

The thought washed over her like a wave of icy water. Harry was supposed to be waiting for her at the gate. Did Justinian find out about him? Was he trying to find Harry? Or was he trying to coax Harry out of hiding? She looked about wildly, unsure if she wanted to find Harry or not. Even if she was able to stop Justinian, if he forced Harry to show himself, the rest of the renegade Brotherhood members would have an easier time finding him —and killing him.

Justinian had almost gotten control of the small blaze threatening to consume his cloak. There was no more time to wait. Ginny raised her wand and tried to think of just which hex would be the best to restrain him.

"Ginny!" he shouted at her as he began slipping the cloak off his shoulders. "Ginny, just calm down. You're not thinking," he told her. He was trying to speak with a calming voice, but she could hear the sharp tension in it. "Put the wand down, and let's talk about this."

"No," she replied simply and aimed her wand.

With a flash of orange flame and smoke, he waved the cloak and dodged to the side. Ginny's hex wasn't fast enough. Instead of striking him in the chest as she had planned, it tore a hole through the battered cloak and struck the ground behind him, erupting into a shower of golden sparks. Ginny spun to take aim again and found him pointing his wand, but not at her. He was crouching down on one knee and looking toward the fenced off area not far from the hut.

Ginny turned, but didn't quite understand what she was seeing. Near one of the largest fence posts, a long, smooth stick seemed to be hovering in the air. An instant later it gave a slight shudder. She couldn't see anything in the gloomy night, but she could hear the harsh whisper of something slicing through the air.

With a shock, she felt a sharp burn on the side of her leg, just above her knee. It felt as though she was being scalded by a poker fresh out of a fireplace. When she looked down, she could hardly believe what she saw. A large, thick arrow was buried into the wooden post behind her. It had pinned her robes to the side of the hut and grazed her leg while doing it.

Her jaw clenched and she scowled at Justinian. He'd tried to shoot her with an arrow. Two inches to the right and it would have been embedded in her leg instead of the thick wooden post. Her anger flared dangerously and her wand lashed out.

"_Inflamari!_"

Fresh flames burst out of Justinian's cloak. He gave a shout of pain as he quickly threw the blazing garment toward Ginny. She flinched, fearing for a second that they might actually reach her. "Enough of this, Ginny!" he cried. "Now _calm down_!" His wand was drawn and pointed directly at her.

Ginny could think of only one thing: _Where was Harry?_ She now wished that he was nearby. Justinian Lynch was more than your average gamekeeper and a better duelist than most school professors would ever need to be. Everything about him suggested what Ginny had already assumed: the way he reacted to her attacks, the way he countered each one in a way that sought to maintain his advantage, the focus he kept on his goal despite all distractions. It was just like watching Josef or Albert fight.

She suddenly remembered her fight with Albert. He had defeated her easily. It had gotten even worse when he'd gotten too close for spells. She had to keep him at a safe distance. So long as she could use a wand she might be able to make it to safety. She tugged at her robes, but Hermione had done a fine job with the transfiguration charm: the fabric was strong and didn't want to tear.

"I am not your enemy, Ginny," he said as he took a cautious step forward. "I'm not here to hurt you."

_He's there to hurt Harry_, shouted a voice inside her head. _They're here to use me to hurt Harry again._

Ginny gave her robes another vicious tug and was rewarded with the sound of ripping fabric. She was almost free.

"No, don't—" Justinian called out. His wand was no longer pointed at her, but held loosely in his hand. He was extending his palms to her in a sign of truce. Ginny stared down at his hands and realized that he was still gripping his wand tightly with his thumb and index finger. He was still ready to fight. "Ginny, please don't run. Let me—"

Before he could finish, Ginny gripped her robes in her left hand and raised her wand with her right. With a simple thought, the burning robe between them flared up into an enormous blaze of scorching yellow flames. Justinian was forced to leap back, and Ginny took that moment to pull at her robes with all her strength.

She heard a satisfying tearing sound as a large hole was ripped in her robes. It came to a sudden stop a moment later. She pulled with all her might and heard a sharp _crack_ as the shaft of the arrow snapped in half.

She was free.

Ginny slipped around the corner of the cottage. She was too far from the castle. She wouldn't be able to run for more than a few seconds before he would stun her —or worse. She needed cover or someplace to hide. There was only one option: the forest.

Crouching low, she ran toward the forest. If she could reach the trees she should be able to find someplace to hide, if only long enough for her to think of some other option. She was only seconds from passing under the branches of the first trees. The forest was almost impossibly dark. She would be safe. She just had to make it a little farther.

"Ginny, stop!" a voice shouted from behind her. It was much closer than she had thought possible.

She gave up all thought of stealth and ran as quickly as she could. She reached the edge of the forest with the sound of heavy boots following close behind her. As she passed the first few trees, her wand flashed out and aimed at a nearby tree.

"_Reducto!_"

The trunk of the tree splintered with an ear shattering explosion. Ginny ducked to avoid the falling mass of branches and leaves and veered off toward a darker patch of forest. Behind her she heard another muffled spell and the cracking of branches as they snapped under the weight of a running wizard.

She cut down more trees as she ran, leaving tumbled mass of twigs and branches behind her. Soon she stopped hearing the sounds of her pursuer and began looking for someplace more permanent to hide. Ahead and to her right was a thick stand of trees next to a small hollow. Between the trees and the depression was a dense patch of brush which stood at least as high as her waist. She slowed her pace and began looking for Justinian.

She couldn't see or hear any sign of him. Quickly she dove under the brush and crawled into the center where the branches were a little less dense. She crouched down, tense and ready to run. The forest was almost completely silent around her. Her hexes must have frightened nearly everything from the area.

Suddenly, a faint noise drifted across the matted ground. Footsteps. Someone (or something) was walking toward her very slowly. She shifted her head, trying to get a look at it, but it was difficult to see through the thick brush. Whatever it was was moving rather slowly. She listened more closely and peered out into the darkness. It wasn't a centaur. It had to be a wizard.

Ginny covered her mouth with her hand and tried to take slow, deep breaths. She could barely see him. It was doubtful that he could see her any better. If she just stayed where she was, he would simply pass her by.

Just as she expected, the footsteps passed within a few feet of the stand of brush she had been hiding in, and then continued on. She slowly pulled her hand from her mouth and relaxed. She leaned forward, resting her arm on a nearby branch. A moment later, it disappeared in a puff of dust.

Her weight shifted and she toppled face-first onto the dusty ground. Coughing, she rolled over and found Justinian lunging for her. She swung her leg wildly, delivering a hard kick to his thigh. He grunted and staggered back, giving Ginny time to get back up and run.

Before she had taken more than a couple steps, she felt herself tugged off her feet. Justinian had grabbed her robes and was now pulling her along the ground back toward him. She couldn't let him get close to her. She knew she had to do something. Her fingers clawed at the ground, until she felt one of the buttons on her robes snap. It gave her an idea. She pointed her wand at her chest and hoped that she didn't overdo the simple charm.

"_Diffindo!_"

Her robes split cleanly along the strained buttons and she felt herself lurch forward a few inches. After twisting about for a second or two, she had worked one arm out of the sleeve. The other came much easier and she quickly rolled away, leaving Justinian with an empty set of robes.

Ginny ran. She didn't hex any trees. She didn't think about hiding. She just ran as quickly as she could. She had to make it to the castle. Even if she only made it within sight of the castle, it might be enough. She began searching for breaks in the trees where she might get a better idea which direction to head. She finally found one and checked her pace as she passed into the clearing. To her horror, she couldn't see the castle at all.

She took in great gasping breaths as she tried to figure out what had happened. She had been running along the edge of the forest, hadn't she? The castle should be just ahead. She spun about looking for some explanation and found it in the last place she wanted it. Jutting up into the night sky behind her, she found the silhouette of the Astronomy Tower.

She had been running _away_ from the castle.

Now she had put Justinian between her and the one place she needed to get. She took a moment to consider running back to the front gate, but it hardly seemed more likely than finding her way back to the castle. She needed to find some way to double back without Justinian catching her. She could just barely see him running through the trees toward her. If he reached the clearing, it would be much harder to slip past him. There was no time to waste.

She ignored the burning in her chest and ran for the darkness of the forest again, almost directly at Justinian. If she timed it just right, she could dodge him before he even realized she had turned around. It might give her the lead she would need to make it back out of the forest.

As soon as she was close enough to see Justinian's face she knew that her plan wouldn't work. He was watching her like a hunter. He was anticipating her actions. She needed to do something that he wasn't expecting.

"_Lumos!_" she shouted as she ran. She raised her wand and pointed it directly at his face. Just as she hoped, he turned away and shielded his eyes. He was only ten feet away from her now. She took a step to the right, holding her wand far from her body to make it appear as though she was running in that direction, then cut back quickly to the left.

Justinian took the bait and lunged for her in the wrong direction. In a second she was past him. She heard him shout her name and order her to stop, but she wasn't about to listen to him now. She had to run. If she could get out of the trees she could call the Aurors and know that they would reach her before Justinian. There was only one problem: her lungs were burning and her legs ached both from the exertion and the cut from the arrow. Justinian, on the other hand, had shown no sign of fatigue.

She saw another thick clumping of trees up ahead and decided to see if she could lose her attacker again. She slipped between a pair of thick trunks and hoped that the young professor would run past her, giving her a chance to sneak off and catch her breath. She waited for a minute, and then two, with no sounds of any pursuing wizard. Slowly and cautiously, she leaned her head out from behind a particularly gnarled trunk and peered into the darkness. The forest was still and silent. After another minute of watching, she stepped hesitantly out of the clump of trees.

A large hand grabbed her wand hand and held it with an iron grip. Ginny tried to scream but another hand quickly clamped down across her mouth. A second later, her right arm was twisted behind her back and she was pressed up against a tree.

"No screaming," Justinian hissed over her shoulder. "Don't make a sound. If you do, you won't live long enough to apologize for the mistake."

Ginny stared into his eyes and found him staring back with calm concentration. What did he want? Why was he doing this?

He leaned close to her and spoke in a low whisper. "Now, we're going to walk back to my cottage and have a little talk, alright?" With his hand still gripping her jaw, he gently forced her to nod. "You're not going to hex me or start any fires or anything else foolish." He shook her head side to side. "Alright then. I'm going to take my hand off your mouth and you're going to keep _very_ quiet, yes?" He nodded for her again.

Slowly, the pressure on her mouth lessened until he pulled his hand away completely. Slowly, he pulled her away from the tree, but kept a firm grip on her right wrist. "Forgive me, but I don't think I can trust you with that right now." He began reaching to take her wand from her.

There was nothing else for her to do. She opened her mouth and let out an ear splitting scream. Justinian winced at the sound, but didn't let go. If anything, he was holding on even tighter. He tugged at her arm painfully, dragging her away from the clump of trees faster than she could walk. He was trying to drag her back to his cottage.

Ginny twisted and tugged at her own arm until her joints ached from the abuse. His grip, however, was loosening. He was now holding her by the hand, and while he was much stronger than she was, she knew he couldn't hold on much longer. She continued tugging and wrenching at her hand as tears filled her eyes.

Then, with a flash of pain, she was free. She felt a dull ache as her ribs struck packed earth. It took only a second before she felt his strong hands gripping at her shoulder and pulling her back to her feet. The moment she was able to stabilize herself, she shoved herself away from him and twisted her body. For the third time that night, Ginny heard fabric ripping. She sprung free of his grasp and fell to the ground again. The feeling of the chilly night air on her back and ribs provided the explanation for the sound. Most of the left side of her blouse had been ripped open and left in tatters.

Justinian whirled around with his wand raised and anger blazing in his eyes. Ginny rolled along the ground, feeling a rumble as his curse struck the soil not far from her. She scrambled to her feet, hearing another curse jet past her. The rush of cold air across her skin was almost invigorating and Ginny felt a new rush of energy as she bolted between the trees, putting more distance between her and the source of the curses she heard echoing through the forest.

Up ahead of her, she could see a darker, jagged line cutting through the forest. It looked to be sunken into the ground. She gave a quick look over her shoulder. She could hear someone running through the trees, but she couldn't see him yet. She ran for the darker patch of ground, hoping it was one of the paths which would lead her to the castle. Upon reaching it, she heard a soft gurgling noise as her foot sank slightly into the ground.

It wasn't a path at all. It was just a tiny stream. Perhaps it would have been larger if there had been any rain recently, but at the moment it was little more than a muddy line snaking its way through the forest. Still, if there was any water in it at all, it had to lead to the lake. The ground was soft, but clear of trees. She should be able to follow it at least as fast as weaving through the trees.

Ginny jogged along the stream, trying to stay between the soggiest ground and the large rocks which occasionally jutted out from the gentle slopes on either side of the stream. Every minute or so she stopped to try and figure out where Justinian might be. She couldn't believe that she would escape him easily, and if she didn't reach the castle, it would only be a matter of time before he would find her.

As she stopped to catch her breath and listen for any sounds of pursuit her mind came back to the same question she'd asked herself so many times before: _Where was Harry?_ He was supposed to be waiting for her. Was he in trouble? Did McGonagall or the Ministry find out about him? Ginny remembered something Justinian had told her earlier: _Miss Granger had begged the Aurors to let her meet you at the gate._

Why would Hermione have been so eager to meet Ginny? She must have had some reason. She had something she needed to tell Ginny, some news or a warning. Did Hermione know that Justinian was a Brotherhood member? Or did she just know that he was an impostor? It didn't really matter anymore. Ginny's goal was still the same: she had to reach the castle.

From somewhere behind her, a sharp _crack_ split the silence of the forest. Ginny's head spun around to find a dark shape creeping along the top of the short embankment she had been running along. She knew in a second who it was and he knew that she had spotted him.

She turned and sprinted along the stream, searching for the fastest ground she could find. The heavy footfalls of boots followed close behind her. She turned to look behind her. It took only an instant for her to find him, but when she turned back to look at her path, it was too late. A large smooth rock was rising out of the ground, its surface glistening faintly in the dim light. Ginny tried to leap over it, but she wasn't quick enough.

Her right foot landed on the far side of the rock, but immediately slid off the wet, mossy surface. It found traction on the packed dirt just beyond the edge of the rock and Ginny's leg buckled as all of her momentum was transferred quite suddenly to a foot that was no longer pointed in the right direction.

The first slicing pains came as a shock to her, despite the fact that she could feel her leg twisting beneath her. She knew she was falling. As her body was falling, she tried to reach out with her hands to keep her from slamming face-first into the wet ground. When the impact finally came, she was surprised again. The pain in her hands and arms from the multitude of sharp rocks and twigs covering the ground was nothing compared to the explosion of agony in her ankle.

With a whimper and deep, gasping breaths, she instinctually curled on the ground, reaching for her ankle as though bringing it closer to herself might somehow lessen the pain. She blinked her eyes against the sparkles of light in her vision and clenched her teeth against the first excruciating throbs from her leg. Before she could even see him, Justinian was standing over her, holding his wand and giving her a patronizing frown.

"I told you I didn't want to hurt you," he told her as she blinked away the tears in her eyes. "It didn't have to come to this. I can only say that you have earned this reward."

As quickly as her twitching muscles could, she reached for her wand and tried to aim it at him. However, her vision was dimming and the forest seemed to be spinning about her. She couldn't quite make out which shape to point the wand at.

"_Expelliarmus!_" Justinian shouted, and Ginny felt a sudden emptiness in her hand.

"Stop this before you cause yourself even more pain," he scolded her.

"No!" she shouted back at him. "I won't stop! As long as I'm alive, I won't stop fighting you." Ginny paused to pull in a long, shaky breath. Despite what she'd said, she knew she couldn't fight him. She didn't have a wand. She couldn't even walk. _Where was Harry?_ her mind screamed. He'd always saved her before. Where was he now?

"We don't have to fight, Ginny," he said firmly. "I'm not your enemy. I never wanted to hurt you. I just wanted to talk to you."

She had heard those words before. Grigore Tarus had said the same thing about Harry, yet he tried to kill Harry the first chance he got. The Brotherhood had lied to her before, and Justinian was doing it again.

"Whatever you want, I won't do it," she said defiantly. "If you're going to kill me, you'd best get on with it before anyone comes to see why I haven't reached the castle."

Justinian stepped around her and crouched down to pick something up off the ground. He returned with Ginny's wand in his hand a concerned expression on his face. "Kill you? I had hoped that less drastic measures would work. While I may not be the next Gilderoy Lockhart, I've never had to resort to death threats to get someone to join me for dinner."

"Come off it," Ginny spat. "I know what you are!"

"So do I!" he cried. "Terribly confused! We were talking—"

Justinian's voice was cut off suddenly. Ginny could hear the sounds of someone else running through the forest. They were moving quickly and seemed to be headed straight for her and Justinian.

"Run," Ginny growled at him. "Help is coming. You can't fight everyone at this school. If you run, they might still take you back. If you don't— if you hurt me, Josef will hunt you down. He'll kill you. I know he will."

"Josef? You mean the Romanian?"

Ginny didn't answer. She had hoped that news would scare him off, but it seemed to only confuse him. He was still standing over her. Who was coming? Was it Harry? Did someone from the castle come looking for her? Whoever it was, there was little Ginny could do to help them.

"Lynch!" a nearby voice shouted. "Is that you?"

"Yes! I'm here!" he replied. "I'm afraid you'll have to come to me!"

"The Weasley girl," another voice shouted, "is she with you?"

As Justinian shouted back to tell them that she was, Ginny realized who was coming for them. The two Aurors must have left their posts at the gate. Ginny recognized Zoe Elderbridge's voice. However, Justinian wasn't leaving. In fact, he was slipping off his robes, to reveal a heavy leather vest. Crouching down next to her, he covered her with his robes and then turned to look at her ankle.

Seconds later, a pair of shapes appeared at the top of the embankment and stopped running. "What happened here? Is she alright?"

"She'll be fine," Justinian answered. "I think she twisted her ankle, and I don't doubt she's in quite a bit of pain, but otherwise she appears alright."

Ginny opened her mouth to scream or cry out, but Justinian flicked his wand at her and she felt her throat constrict until the only sound that left her mouth was raspy groan.

"You're certain? There's no poison?" Zoe asked.

"No, no," he said. "She's hurt and frightened and exhausted from running, but I don't think there's any permanent damage."

"Where did you see them?" she asked.

"Back there, maybe a few minutes walk," he told them pointing back in the direction Ginny had just come from. "There is a clump of trees. There is a small nest near the treetops."

"Very well," she said. Behind her, Chatham drew his wand and started walking in the direction Justinian had pointed. "Why did you let her come in here?"

"I didn't," he answered. "They attacked us on the path to the castle. She ran —into the forest, unfortunately. I followed her, but I couldn't get to her before we ran across more of them. If I didn't know better, I'd say they were trying to set up an ambush."

"It wouldn't be the first time," Zoe replied. "We'll go take care of the nest. See that she gets to the castle. We'll talk to the centaurs about keeping a closer eye on them."

Then, to Ginny's horror, she followed Chatham and ran off. Ginny tried to shout, but again, no sounds came.

"I'm sorry I had to do that, but you're not thinking straight," Justinian told her. He bent over her ankle and prodded it gently with his wand. Ginny winced, but some of the pain in her ankle disappeared.

"I'm not going to be able to heal this here," he told her. "I'm going to take you back to my cottage. I have a nice potion that will clear this all up. Now, let's try this again: I'm going to remove the charm that's keeping you from screaming, and instead of screaming you're going to talk to me. Will you at least give that a try?"

Ginny gave a hesitant nod and he looped his wand at her mouth.

"Now, we were talking before the Auror's showed up," he said softly. "Why did you attack me on the path?"

Ginny's eyes looked in the direction Justinian had sent the Aurors, then to her wand, still held firmly in his hand. "You're one of _them_," she said in a controlled tone. "You're one of the ones who wanted to keep fighting."

"One of _them_?" he repeated. "You mean a member of the Brotherhood, one of the wizards who attacked the Ministry last week, one of the wizards you're still hiding from?"

"So you admit it?"

"No," Justinian laughed. "I admit only that I can be nosy at times. I have heard enough rumors to put the pieces together. When I heard you mention the name before, it seemed to fit everything I've heard. What makes you think that I am one of them?"

Ginny narrowed her eyes at him as the first hint of doubt entered her mind. She raised an arm and pointed directly at his chest. "Your— Your talisman," she said shakily. "Didn't you know? The others stopped wearing them."

Justinian's head cocked his head to the side and reached down under his robes to fish out the talisman. He pulled it out by the chain and held it where Ginny could see it. "This old thing is the cause of all of this trouble?" he asked her. "Why? Have you seen another one of these?"

Ginny felt her stomach clench and her throat tighten. Despite the darkness of the forest and the tears of pain clouding her vision, she could see the talisman more clearly now. It did indeed have a circle with three segments, but it was silver, not gold. More importantly, the circle was not empty, but filled with something she couldn't quite make out. Instead of hanging directly from the chain, the ring of silver hung from a pointed mount at the top of the circle. As it twisted on its chain, she saw a solid back of silver reflecting the light of the stars.

It wasn't one of the Brotherhood rings. She had made a horrible mistake.

"I— I don't know what to say."

Justinian smiled and nodded his head. Ginny began repeatedly and urgently apologizing for everything she had done. Justinian nodded and said nothing, but began looking at her ankle again. With a flick of his wand, it was splinted and bound in tight wrappings. Ginny had not stopped apologizing.

"Enough," Justinian hissed. "You can do more of that later, right now we need to get moving. Can you walk?" He grabbed her hand and began pulling her to her feet.

Ginny felt a stab of pain and nearly fell back to the ground. He caught her and helped her sit on the embankment. She winced and looked up at him. "It doesn't look like it. I think I need a few more minutes."

Justinian looked uneasy. "We really can't wait any longer. We need to move."

Ginny glared at him. "But how—"

Her question was cut short as he reached under her legs and scooped her up off the forest floor. Ginny reflexively put her arm around his shoulders to keep her balance as he climbed up the embankment and began walking through the trees at a faster pace than Ginny could have managed even if she hadn't injured herself.

She was forced to admit that she was impressed by just how strong Justinian was. There were of course a number of other reasons to be impressed by him. It must have taken an impossible amount of restraint not to have killed her after what she'd just done. She couldn't believe that she'd behaved so foolishly. And now he was carrying her so that he could heal her as quickly as he could.

"I'll be alright," she said sheepishly. "It hurts, but I've been hurt worse. There's no need to tire yourself out walking this fast."

He let out a short laugh which was edged with bitterness. "Oh, I'm not walking this fast because of some desire to spare you from dealing with pain. After all that, I find it only appropriate that you have to live with a few minutes of discomfort. It's still better than the alternative."

"What would that have been?" she asked, suddenly confused by what he'd told her.

"Perhaps you would have been willing to give it a try," he said with a short laugh. "Myself, I've never had the pleasure of experiencing it. I've been told that Acromantula bites are both excruciatingly painful and pleasantly relaxing. If I had to guess, I'd say they're only painful if you survive."

"Acromantulas? What about them? Don't they live deeper in the forest?"

"Not any more," he grunted. "That nice dark clump of trees you thought you were so clever to find was only dark because there was an Acromantula nest fifty feet above your head. If I hadn't have dragged you away, they would have. Of course, you didn't realize that, because apparently you've got no sense at all. You ran into a forest and didn't pay any attention to your surroundings. You didn't even know that one of them was following us from that clearing, did you?"

Ginny didn't answer. She knew there was nothing she could say that could possibly explain or excuse her behavior. She closed her eyes and let her head rest on Justinian's shoulder. How had Harry run from the Brotherhood for almost a year? Ginny had been doing it for a month and she was already out of her mind with paranoia. She'd _attacked_ a wizard who'd only been trying to comfort her, and then she ran into a dangerous forest and made a complete fool of herself.

Part of her wanted to tell Justinian to put her down and leave. Surely a night with the Acromantulas would be easier to bear than the embarrassment of having to explain her injuries to everyone in the castle. The only thing stopping her from running away was the fact that she wouldn't get three steps before passing out from the pain. So, instead she simply buried her face in Justinian's shoulder and clenched her teeth against the pain shooting up her leg.

Far quicker than she had expected, they emerged from the forest and began walking across the open grass to Justinian's cottage. Ginny opened her eyes when she felt the cool night breeze blowing across her legs. As she stared up into the starry sky, she wished that she could be as far away as they were. A moment later, she scolded herself. Everything that had happened had been her own fault. Justinian had done everything he could to protect and stop her. He'd even lied to the Aurors to protect her. A flicker of hope tickled Ginny's stomach. He'd lied to the Aurors. If he lied to them, he would almost have to lie to the others.

"We're here," he announced. Ginny turned her head to see the front door of the cottage only feet away. Justinian fumbled with his wand for a second before finally aiming it at the door.

"_Alohamora._" he whispered.

He pushed the door to the cottage open and entered slowly, making sure that he did not so much as brush Ginny's legs up against the frame as they entered. He walked over to the far side of the room and shifted his grip on Ginny so that all her weight was resting on the arm under her legs. With the other arm, he swept a few stray plates and a large clay vase off the table beneath her.

"No!" she cried out. "Not on the table, please!"

"Well, it's either the table or the floor," he growled.

"Not the table!" begged Ginny, who still woke up sweating after having dreams of being tied to a table in a dark room.

"Too late," Justinian replied as he lowered her onto the polished wooden surface. "You should have thought of that before you went and threatened to have your boyfriend kill me."

"He's not my boyfriend!" Ginny cried as she tried to cover herself with his robes.

"If you say so," he mumbled as he grabbed a potion from a nearby cabinet and set it on the table near her head. "Drink that and take off your blouse."

"What?" she choked.

"Relax," he told her as he walked back toward the table and began unwrapping her ankle. "You're not planning on walking back to the castle like that, are you?" Ginny didn't even have to answer. "I thought not," he replied. "I might be good at chasing off Acromantulas, and good enough with injuries, but I'm afraid I've never had enough talent to repair clothes while people are still wearing them."

He took a moment to grab a large cloak off the wall. It was as tall as he was and lined with fluffy white fur. "I brought it for winter mornings," he commented as he tossed it across her chest. "It's charmed to retain heat, though I daresay it will do a passable job of retaining your dignity as well."

Ginny quickly pulled the cloak over her and began unbuttoning what remained of her blouse. Her ankle was starting to tingle lightly. At the other end of the table, Justinian was inspecting it and prodding it occasionally with his wand. Whatever he was doing, the pain was lessening —quickly. Ginny slipped her arm out of her blouse and carefully draped it over a nearby chair. Justinian had already hung her torn robe from another one.

The tingling in her ankle was slowly disappearing. Justinian was no longer prodding it. Instead, he had moved on to the cut on her leg she'd received from the arrow point. Ginny felt a wave of self consciousness as his hand pressed against her thigh. She reached down to tug her skirt back into place.

"Just relax," he said, trying to comfort her. "All I'm interested in is this cut. I've had quite enough excitement for a night. I don't really need a Romanian hit-wizard stalking me because I touched the girl he fancies. Beyond that, my attentions are already taken."

"Look, Josef's not—"

"Yes, yes, I know," Justinian laughed. "The young never want to admit when something exists until it's bloody obvious. And often not even then. Can you move your ankle now?"

Ginny tried to move her foot. It moved, but it still felt stiff and sore, but it was bearable. Justinian smiled and gestured for her to come down off the table. She sat up hesitantly, trying to wrap his cloak around her. It was difficult. Being a gentlemen, Justinian turned his back and waited. She swung her legs over the side of the table and wrapped the cloak around herself properly. She tried to stand up but the moment she put any weight on her foot, stabbing pains shot up her leg. Wincing, she collapsed into a heavy wooden chair.

"I was afraid of that," he said as he turned around. "Looks like we'll have to wait a bit before we return to the castle. Do you think you'll be able to come up with a story to tell the others? I didn't want to tell the Aurors too much. If they would have seen your clothes— well, Acromantulas don't rip clothes like yours were ripped."

"I'm sure I can think of something," she said. "So... you're not going to tell anyone?"

"No," he said with a smile. "I've made my share of mistakes, and if I'm not mistaken, this is one that would cause you more trouble than a spot of embarrassment. They're already saying that you might not be able to handle the... problems up at the castle. It would be a shame for them to send you away for something like this."

Ginny thanked him and tried to make herself comfortable. He delivered a fresh pot of tea and a small cup to the table before picking up the torn robes and giving them an appraising look. "Should be easy," he remarked with a nod, looking at the minor damage.

However, it proved to be much more trouble than either of them expected. After multiple attempts the robes were oddly lop-sided and warped. The repaired section was more faded and worn than the rest. They actually looked more conspicuous than they had been moments earlier.

"What's this about, then?" he grumbled as he poked at the mended robes. I've done this loads of times and I've never had this much trouble. I mean, I know I'm not good enough to get a job at Madam Malkin's but this just doesn't make sense. I've really botched these up good, and I can't figure out how."

He held up the robes for Ginny to see. It was even worse than she had expected. Justinian shook his head in disgust. "The charm isn't this hard. I've been doing it since my days at Hogwarts. I've never turned witches' robes in wizards' robes before. It's almost as if they never were—" Justinian stopped suddenly. "Hold on. Were these your robes?"

Ginny knew there was no way she could deny it. She only hoped he wouldn't be able to tell just whose robes they had been. In a halting, uncomfortable tone, she explained that she hadn't come to Hogwarts expecting to be called into the Ministry. The robes, she said, were a spare set Josef had brought.

"And he's not your boyfriend, is he?" Justinian asked with a raised eyebrow. "Well, that does explain it." He waved his wand again and the robes flashed a deep magenta. "Yeah, I figured that," he said when the light had faded. "I've well and truly ruined those. I'd apologize but I think the blame for that is shared pretty evenly on that one."

"If you hadn't brought a set of robes, I doubt you remembered a blouse as nice as this. Should I remove any transfigurations before I try to fix this one?" he asked. Ginny groaned as she remembered what it had been. She looked down at her tea and nodded.

"_Finite Incantatem!_"

Ginny ignored the flash of light as Justinian returned the tattered blouse to its previous form. She heard a muffled laugh from across the room and felt her cheeks warming up.

"Sorry about that," Justinian apologized, "it's just that— Well, if this Josef bloke isn't romantically involved with you, he must be either tragically daft or completely mental."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Can you fix it? It's what I sleep in. I don't have anything else."

Justinian politely kept any more comments to himself as he went about mending the satiny nightgown and transfiguring it back into a reasonable facsimile of the one Ginny had been wearing. When he was done, he draped it over the chair next to her and turned his back again so she could put it on.

Ginny stood up slowly, carefully placing more weight on her foot and making sure she wouldn't suddenly collapse on the ground. Once she was stable, she tossed the fur-lined cloak aside and slipped her arms into the blouse as quickly as she could. When she was finished with the last button, she turned back toward Justinian.

"You still have my wand," she said. "I'd like it back, now."

"I'd like to give it to you," he replied. "I'd also like to end my day without any more hexes thrown at me. Do you think it would be possible that we both get our wish?"

"Yes," she answered. "It was a horrible mistake. I'm really sorry about it, but we should get back to the castle."

Justinian smiled and held out her wand for her to take. He was at least a few steps away, and didn't seem to be making any effort to bring it to her. When he still had not moved after a few seconds, Ginny stepped toward him to take it. There was only soreness as she stepped forward onto her injured ankle, but the moment she put her full weight onto it, a dull throb of pain ran from her foot to her knee. An instant later, she felt herself falling.

Again, Justinian stepped forward to catch her. He quickly helped her back to her chair and sat down across from her. "It looks like you're not quite ready to go back," he said as he poured another cup of tea and added the contents of a small vial from his pocket. He slid the cup across the table to her, along with her wand. She accepted them both, pocketing the wand and sipping down a third of the cup of tea.

"It should only be a few more minutes," he explained. "It works rather fast, really. Still, it would be best to wait. If you would stumble on your way to the castle, you would likely do even more damage."

Ginny sipped at her tea and felt a fresh wave of tingling warmth flow through her leg. She got the impression that he was holding something back. He was watching her closely, as though searching for the answer to some question in her movements. When she asked him about it, his demeanor changed to a more curious one.

"Yes, there is something," he replied. "I was wondering if you would speak with me. I promise that I will keep whatever you say in the strictest confidence."

Ginny stared at him for a moment, then nodded. Her paranoia had ebbed as quickly as the pain in her ankle, and she perceived the honesty and trustworthiness in his behavior.

"This... misunderstanding we had, it all seemed to stem from what I felt was a simple question. Many people believe that Harry Potter might still be alive. I have to think they all have been asked why they believe as they do many times. Yet, when I asked you, you started acting strangely and speaking about this Brotherhood. I hoped you would provide me with some explanation."

Ginny frowned and tried to think of just what she could say and where she should start. If she didn't tell him anything, he would only start asking questions elsewhere and she doubted that asking questions about the Brotherhood still didn't feel like a safe thing to do. With slow, cautious words, she began trying to explain the last few months of her life.

She left Harry out of her story altogether, though it only reminded her of Harry's continued refusal to speak with her about why he could not reveal himself to the Order. Surely Lupin and her parents could be trusted. It wasn't as if they were going to try and turn him in for a reward. Even Fred and George would do anything to keep Harry safe. Still, every time she asked he simply said that he didn't feel right yet.

Instead, she focused on the Brotherhood, explaining that a small group of them had been responsible for the attacks everyone had read about in the _Prophet_. She did her best to convince Justinian that there was no reason to fear them any longer.

"If the danger has passed, why had you been hiding for the past week?" he asked. "Why would you attack me the moment you got the slightest hint that I might be one of them?" Before Ginny could answer, Justinian began thinking aloud. "The moment I asked about Harry you tensed up. You were preparing for a battle, and not just with a Hogwarts professor. These Brotherhood chaps are a tough lot and they're still a threat, aren't they?"

"Yes and no," Ginny said hesitantly. "They are well trained, yes, but things have changed recently. They aren't a threat to any of us anymore. However, a few of them don't seem to want to change. I thought you were one of them."

Justinian pulled a thin gold chain from around his neck. A small, roughly circular talisman hung from it. He set it down and slid it across the table to her. "And that's why, is it? A bit of jewelry? Have you seen something like it before?"

Ginny leaned forward to pick it up off the table. As she had seen earlier, it truly wasn't all that similar to the ring talismans the Brotherhood had been wearing. It did have a ring of metal, but in this case, it acted only as a border around a flat, black gem of some sort that had been set in the middle of it. Ginny held it up to take a closer look. The metal was worn and tarnished, obscuring the engraved lines which she had first taken to be scratches. Instead, they seemed to be writing of some sort. Whatever message they used to construct had been lost long ago. There was more writing on the back, etched into the solid silver disk which had first proven her to be wrong.

The more interesting feature, however, was the large gem set in the center. It was cut to be completely flat so that the face of the amulet was a single, smooth plane. The surface had been polished to a reflective brilliance, and yet the gem itself was totally black with an almost liquid luster. It looked as though a pool of ink had been frozen in place. She ran her thumb across the large facet and felt the impossible perfection of it. While the rest of the talisman had suffered the ravages of time, looking old enough to be an heirloom of many generations of ancestors, the large gem was flawless and unblemished.

"No," Ginny finally whispered. "I don't think I've ever seen anything quite like this."

"And yet you attacked me for wearing it," Justinian commented. "I understand it has a certain historical appeal, but that hardly warrants the use of wands. I would have gladly given it to you, had you expressed your interest in a more civil manner."

"I was mistaken," she explained. "In the dark, I thought— I only saw part of it and..." She didn't know just how to tell him what she had thought she'd seen. However, there was a way to show him. Carefully, Ginny reached for the chain which still hung around her own neck. She drew it out, and laid the golden ring talisman next to the one Justinian had been wearing.

Harry had never asked her why she still wore it. He had never told Ron or Hermione about it, either. Perhaps he knew it would only provoke her to demand more answers from him. Perhaps he already understood why she wore it better than even she did. At first she had convinced herself it might be useful if the Brotherhood came looking for them.

He stared at it for a moment, then at Ginny. "I think I am starting to understand now. You must admit, though, that some explanations are still needed. It is obviously a symbol, and after what you told me, its meaning seems clear enough. Though I can see the similarity, I cannot see why you would attack me for wearing one."

"They don't wear them anymore," she replied softly. "Only the ones who refused to change would be wearing them."

"And yet, you wear one. It is an odd contradiction." He sat back in thought, staring at the ring.

Suddenly he stood up. "Perhaps it is not so unusual as I thought." He turned around and walked to a large wardrobe on the other side of the room. He opened it, and began searching through a small chest sitting in a drawer near the floor. Seconds later, he walked back to the table and gently laid a third chain next to the other two. Threaded onto this one was a large tooth nearly four inches long.

"A Healer in Norway pulled that from my leg a few years ago. That was my first dragon hunt. It wasn't until it bit down that I realized which of us was truly the hunter. We were trying to save him. There were too many Muggles moving into the area and we just wanted to move him to a safer area." He sat down in his chair and stared off at one of the windows. "I killed him. If I hadn't he'd have killed me, and yet, it changed me. When the Healer took the tooth out, I asked to keep it. I still wear it some days. It reminds me of past mistakes and encourages me to avoid them in the future."

Ginny looked down at the ring and remembered the face of the wizard she'd taken it from.

"Yeah, I think that's close enough to the right reason," she said in a soft voice.

Justinian smiled at her and slipped the necklace with the dragon tooth around his neck. Then he picked up the chain holding the black gem and handed it to her. "Let this be a reminder of this lesson, then: Had it not been for moss and meddling Aurors, I feel certain you would have escaped. You are a formidable witch for your age."

Ginny watched the torchlight glint off the face of the black gem. "No, I can't take that. It must be worth a fortune."

Justinian laughed. "If it was, do you think I would be living here, spending entire weeks teaching first-years how to care for flobberworms?" He took one of Ginny's hands and placed the talisman in it. "You're free to try and sell it if you like. Perhaps your brothers would take it and sell it back to some poor bloke as a prank. Anyway, I would rather not be attacked again for wearing it, and you seem to enjoy it."

"I do, but— It looks old. It can't be worthless."

"Oh, I never said it was worthless," he replied. "I only said it was hard to sell. Wizards these days won't pay much gold for something unless it has some sort of magical properties. If gold is all you were looking for, you'd have better luck trying to pass it off to some Muggle. Of course, with your father being who he is, that might not be the best idea."

Ginny slowly slipped both chains around her neck and stared down at the large black stone again. There was an unnatural depth to it, as though she were staring into a deep pool. It was a little unsettling and yet she found that she was already quite fond of it.

"Where did you get it?" she asked.

"I picked it up in an old tomb shortly after I left Hogwarts," he explained. Ginny froze and gave it a panicked look. Her brother Bill had told her loads of stories about horrible things that happened to people who stole artifacts from old tombs.

"Don't worry," Justinian comforted her. "I did all the standard checks. And then a number of the not-so-standard ones. And then I had a curse breaker check it. Twice. I spent most of a year researching it. Like you, I figured it had to be worth a vault of gold, and it would be, if I could prove that it had some importance. Right now, it's just a pretty stone set in damaged silver. Perhaps your friend, Miss Granger, will have better luck at finding out where it came from. Which reminds me: we should be going to see her. With luck, you will still have time to join her and your brother for the evening meal."

Ginny looked down at her new talisman one last time before slipping it under her blouse. She didn't want to have to explain it to anyone that night. There would be plenty of time for that tomorrow, when she could be alone with Ron, Hermione and Harry.

Justinian led her out of the cabin and she followed slowly. There was no more pain in her ankle, just a lingering stiffness to remind her that she truly had injured herself. Justinian was quick to point out that a nice walk was the best way to cure a little stiffness.

When they arrived at the castle, Justinian was true to his word and he told the Aurors there the same story they had agreed on earlier. He quickly ushered her to the Great Hall where Ron and Hermione had joined the rest of the professors at the head table. Hermione seemed a little skeptical of the idea of an Acromantula attack, but both Lupin and McGonagall accepted it without any questions that might have been difficult to answer.

The meal was relaxing when compared with the rest of Ginny's day. Within minutes of her arrival, Hermione had whispered to her that Harry was still in the castle. After what had happened that afternoon, the entrances to the castle were being watched even more closely. They said very little else, but Ginny was certain that there was more they were waiting to tell her. For the time being, Ginny didn't care. She enjoyed her meal and tried to look forward to a restful night of sleep.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Sorry about that chatper. It doesn't really serve all that much of a purpose other than a bit of fun. I noticed that quite a few readers have become suspicious of everyone, so this is a bit of fun I wrote to poke fun at that. Hopefully everyone will forgive me.

Also, this is everyone's last reminder that I'll be taking part in an Author Chat at WizardTales this Saturday starting at 8:30pm EST. Check out www. wizardtales. net (mangled for for more info. There should be a story about it on the home page and a link to the chat area.


	7. A History of Magic

_This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

**CHAPTER 7**

**A History of Magic**

* * *

Ginny awoke the next day feeling refreshed, invigorated and uncontrollably panicked. From the moment her eyes opened she knew that something was wrong. It had taken her only an instant to track down the source of her discomfort. 

Harry was gone. 

He had been lying next to her when she fell asleep. They had spoken for hours before then. She had told him everything that had happened at the Ministry and the real story of her return to Hogwarts. Harry hadn't acted strange at all or given her any indication that he was planning on doing anything unexpected. The unavoidable truth was that he had left without telling her. 

Lying about in bed wouldn't fix that. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and reached for the small nightstand next to her. Harry had noticed the new necklace last night and asked her to take it off when she came to bed. He said that the sound of the two talismans striking each other was distracting. She had taken off both of them, but now only one of them was left on the bed stand. The Brotherhood talisman was lying just where she had put it, but the black gem amulet was gone. 

Why had Harry taken it? As she dressed quickly, she tried to think of anything he might have said the night before that would give her some clue to where he had gone or why. Perhaps Hermione would know. She had obviously wanted to talk to Ginny, but McGonagall and Lupin had given them no chance to speak privately. It had seemed almost as if they were trying to keep an eye on Ginny. 

For a moment, she allowed herself to consider the chance that Harry had left to find McGonagall and Lupin to tell them about himself. Things weren't going to get any easier for him and it was getting harder and harder for him to justify hiding from the Order. As she slipped her feet into her shoes, she finally tossed this thought aside: he wouldn't have done it without telling her. Something was wrong. 

She looked for a set of robes to wear and found a stack of three of them near the door. All of them looked to be her size. She grabbed one and slipped it on, not bothering to button it as she strode to the door. Just before she reached for the handle, the door popped open and slowly opened with the slightest of creaks. Ginny stopped where she was and pulled out her wand. 

The door slowly came to a stop and she peered out into the corridor. She had just enough time to see that no one was outside the door before it suddenly began closing itself. It clicked back shut and a moment later, Harry appeared with a rustle of fabric. 

"Morning," he greeted her cheerily. "A bit jumpy this morning?" 

"Harry! Where have you been?" 

"Quiet!" he hissed in response. "Do you want everyone to know I'm here?" 

"The thought had crossed my mind," Ginny replied. "Where did you go? Why didn't you tell me?" 

"I left to try and find some answers," Harry replied flatly. "And I _did_ tell you. Of course, right after that you rubbed your nose and pulled the covers up over your head. I didn't think you'd really care if I stepped out for a bit." 

"Why did you take the amulet?" Ginny asked, trying to not to sound as accusatory as she wanted to be. 

"It was one of the questions I was looking to answer," he admitted. "Why are you so attached to it?" 

"Because Justinian gave it to me and he'll expect me to have it when he sees me again," she explained, though it sounded a little more paranoid than she would have liked. "I'd rather not have to lie to him any more," she added, thinking that was a slightly better answer. 

Harry gave her a suspicious look, but reached into his pocket and pulled out the amulet and its chain. He offered it to her and she took it. She tried to slip it over her head as quickly as she could without looking like she was overly eager to put it on. The whole situation felt silly. She didn't _need_ to wear it, but she felt foolish and embarrassed for overreacting at its disappearance. 

"Well, did you find anything out about it?" she asked, trying to make some sort of normal conversation. 

"No," he answered, "but there must be something. I couldn't even find out what sort of stone was set in it. Whatever it is, it's extremely rare and probably worth a lot more than any sort of gift a young professor would give someone they just met." 

"I think he knows that," Ginny told him. "He said that it was worthless until someone was able to work out just what it was. He hadn't had any luck, but it's worth a look, isn't it? I wouldn't mind a little extra gold, you know. I thought Hermione might be able to help. Did you talk to her?" 

"Yeah, we spoke," Harry grumbled at the floor. 

"And she didn't have any ideas?" 

"We, er— We didn't really talk about the necklace," he admitted. Ginny gave him a curious glance, and he rolled his eyes. "Don't worry. I'm sure she'll fill you in the first chance she gets." 

"Why don't you give me a quick summary, then," Ginny suggested with a shallow smile. 

"Well, the short story would be that she thinks I lied to her and won't stop pestering me about it." 

"And did you lie to her?" 

Harry looked annoyed. "No!" he replied with visible annoyance. A moment later, his expression softened and he let out a short sigh. "Well, yes, actually I probably did —but not about the thing she's bothering me about," he added. 

"Oh, well how dare she be so distrusting?" Ginny replied sarcastically. Harry didn't appear amused. Ginny glared at him. "Honestly, Harry. We have much more serious things to worry about at the moment. Talk to me next week and I'll try to help you convince Hermione that you're not lying when you really are. For now, I'm more concerned about the first-year in the Hospital Wing who has picked up Parseltongue in just two days." 

Just as Harry was about to respond, someone knocked on the door. Despite some aggressive gestures from Ginny, Harry moved only lazily toward the corner of the room hidden by the door. When he reached his destination, Ginny reached for the door and opened it just enough to look through. 

"Is he here?" Hermione asked in a low whisper. Her eyes were slightly narrowed, making her look both tired and annoyed. Behind her was Ron who seemed more uncomfortable than anything else. 

Ginny nodded quickly and ushered the two of them into the room. Hermione immediately turned to glare at Harry who stared back with a bored expression on his face. Ron, on the other hand, had turned the opposite direction and was now pretending to be completely engrossed by a painting of old woman stitching up worn robes. 

"Did you tell her?" Hermione asked Harry sharply. 

Harry let out another sigh. "Yes, actually," he replied. "I told her that—" 

"No, you didn't," Hermione snapped. "You couldn't have. You barely had enough time to tell her you slipped out while she was sleeping." 

"Then why did you even ask?" he shot back. "We're wasting valuable time which could be better spent eating a nice breakfast, right Ron?" 

"Not this time, mate," Ron replied as he inspected a candlestick sitting on the fireplace mantle. "You're on your own." Hermione flashed a triumphant smile. 

"Oh, that's nice!" replied Harry. "You call me your mate, but you won't believe me when I say I'm not lying?" 

Ron kept his eyes on the candlestick. "It's got nothing to do with that," he said. "I'd like to say I believe you, but it's pretty likely they'll toss you in Azkaban when they catch you and then I'm stuck with her again." 

The smile on Hermione's face vanished and she spun about to scowl at Ron. He didn't turn around, but seemed to understand immediately that he'd said the wrong thing. 

"I didn't mean it like that," he said quickly. "It would be a good thing to be stuck with her! Well— not that I want you to go to Azkaban, but it would— I mean, er... Can we go now?" 

Hermione rolled her eyes at him, then turned back to Harry. "Where did those robes come from, Harry?" she said, pointing at the stack of them Ginny had found only minutes ago. 

Harry briefly explained that he had left the day before to send an owl to Madame Malkin's requesting spare robes for himself and Ginny. Early that morning he had left again and waited for the owl to return with the robes. 

"And when did you do that?" Hermione asked. 

"A little after dawn—" Harry replied, "—the same time the first flight of owls delivering the _Daily Prophet_ arrives." 

"And you didn't do anything before that?" she continued pressing him. 

Harry threw up his arms. "We've been over this! You won't believe me, so why do you even keep asking. What do you want me to tell you, Hermione?" He gave her a disgusted glance as he walked across the room and flopped down on the bed. "Fine!" he called out as he waved his arms wildly, "I admit it! I woke up late last night, slipped under the Invisibility Cloak, and then crept about the castle, committing numerous evil acts like stealing students' homework, turning their underpants inside out and eating whole baby chickens!" 

"Very funny, Harry," Hermione growled. 

"I wasn't trying to be funny," he replied. "I was trying to be honest. It's a lot harder than I thought it would be." 

"No, it's not. Just tell the _truth_." 

"I was telling you the truth!" he replied. "What do you want me to say? That I was sneaking around so I could find another student to attack? Maybe I was hoping I could snuff this one outright, instead of all the nasty pale skin and speaking in Parseltongue." 

Hermione was livid. She stared at him for a moment, then began speaking in a slow, controlled tone: "Harry. This is very serious. I can't keep this a secret. If I don't tell the Ministry, they'll sack me and you'll be in even worse trouble." 

"It wasn't me," Harry replied in an equally controlled voice. 

"What wasn't him?" Ginny finally asked. 

"Ron, tell her." 

Ron stiffened. Slowly, his neck turned until Ginny could just barely see the profile of his face. "Some of the students, er... They say they saw someone sneaking about the castle last night." 

"They've been seeing someone sneaking about for the last few weeks!" Harry called out. 

"Shut up, Harry," Hermione snapped. "There's more." 

Ron dropped his head and mumbled something that Ginny couldn't hear. Harry apparently missed it as well. He sat up, with a curious expression. "Turn around, Ronald," Hermione groaned. 

"I'd rather not, if it's all the same," he replied. 

"What's wrong with him?" Ginny asked. Fear tingled down her spine. 

"He's a prat," Hermione answered. "Turn around, Ronald! Honestly. I'm certain there must be a shred of maturity somewhere in there. It's just a bed. Ginny's not even near it, so get over whatever issues you have and tell him what you heard!" 

Ron turned around, but kept his eyes focused on the floor. "Some of the students saw someone sneaking about and said they looked just like Harry." 

"It wasn't me!" Harry repeated in an exasperated voice. 

Hermione let out a frustrated sigh. "Fine, Harry. It wasn't you. I'm sure there was some other wizard sneaking about the castle at the same time you were, who looked just like you, and disappeared just like you do when you put that stupid cloak on." 

"That's what I was saying!" Harry replied. 

Hermione shook her head in disgust. "We've got to go," she announced. "We've been invited to eat breakfast with the professors." Harry made a motion to stand up, but Hermione jabbed her finger into his shoulder. "No!" she barked. "You have to stay. All irresponsible gits have to stay here." 

"Oi!" complained Ron. "What did I do?" 

Hermione rubbed her eyes. "Not you, Ronald," she said wearily.

* * *

After leaving a disgruntled Harry alone in Ginny's room, Ron, Hermione and Ginny made their way down the narrow corridor which would lead to them back to the main corridor and eventually, the Great Hall. 

"You need to speak with Harry," Hermione said as they neared the door which separated them from the more public areas of Hogwarts. 

"I _was_ talking to Harry," she replied. 

"You need to speak with him a little more aggressively. He's got to make a decision. If he wants to stay hidden, he's got to stay hidden. If he wants to search for answers, then he'd do better to put an end to this bloody secrecy, and help the rest of us. I honestly don't see what you two are so afraid of." 

"What _we're_ afraid of? Whoever said I wanted him to stay hidden?" Ginny grumbled. "I've been trying to get him to tell me why he's doing it for a week now. He refuses to even discuss it with me." 

"Maybe he got used to being left alone," suggested Ron. "He never did like being famous, you know. If he suddenly appeared—" Ron paused to shake his head and chuckle. "Between the _Prophet_, the Ministry, the Order and all of the Quidditch teams, he'd be lucky to get a minute of sleep. Hell, if they couldn't get him to play in the Quidditch World Cup, they'd probably ask him to be a referee." 

Hermione stopped at the door and glared at Ron. "You'd better be wrong," she said with a bitter laugh. "If he's putting us through all of this just because he enjoys being reclusive—" She smiled and shook her head. "Talk to him, Ginny," she said in a threatening tone. "Either he gives us an explanation, or I'll give him a real reason to be reclusive."

* * *

"What's wrong with Hermione?" Lupin whispered to Ginny as she poured herself some juice from a large pitcher. 

"Er, nothing," she replied quickly. "Didn't sleep well, I guess," she added. 

Lupin shrugged. "I suppose it was a bad night for a lot of us. Valencia and I were up all night." 

From the corner of her eye, Ginny caught a glimpse of Tonks on the other side of Lupin. Her lips were drawn tight as she viciously stabbed at the innocent sausage on her plate. Lupin didn't notice. 

"I don't know if I should take her absence as a good sign or not. When I left her last night, she was trying to gather enough owls to fetch a crate of books from her old library." 

"You mean the _Biblioteca de la Magia Antigua_ in Barcelona?" Tonks asked, again mimicking the librarian's accent. 

"Er, yeah," he answered. "It's actually a very good library. We're unbelievably lucky to have her helping us. It would take me weeks to find the books she has had delivered directly to us." 

"Yes, it's truly amazing how wonderful she is," Tonks mumbled. "I haven't had a decent night's rest in weeks, but she stays up one night and we're supposed to appoint her to the Wizengamot." This finally got Lupin's attention. 

"I'm not saying everyone else hasn't done their part," he said calmly, "but she's helped us more than anyone could expect. She has many more talents than simply organizing books." 

Tonks let her fork clatter to her plate and glared at Lupin. "What other talents would those be?" 

From farther down the table, a new voice called out: "She's actually terribly knowledgeable about Astronomy." Ginny leaned forward and saw Justinian looking back at her. "She also speaks quite a few languages, including some runes that I've never even seen before," he added. Ginny noticed that he seemed less alert than he had been the night before. "Has anyone actually seen her this morning? After what has happened, perhaps one of us should go check—" 

"Professor Desmoda is doing just fine," McGonagall interrupted. "I spoke with her not long ago. She said she would rather remain in the Library. With my permission, she has moved the most commonly used books to an unused classroom and closed off the Library to students. Of course, she welcomes anyone who might wish to help her." 

"Perhaps I'll do that," Justinian replied with a smile. 

"Not today, Professor Lynch," she told him. "I also received a message from Bane that he would send three centaurs to speak with you this morning. I have agreed that you and two Aurors will join them and try to find some way to keep the Acromantulas away from the school. We have more than enough to worry about without giant spiders crawling out of the forest to attack the students." 

"Speaking of that," Lupin chimed in, "How did the three of you sleep last night?" Ron grumbled, but Lupin ignored him. "The rooms are working out alright? No disturbances?" 

"I don't think so," Ginny replied lightly as she buttered her toast. "What sort of disturbances could you have expected?" 

"This is an old castle, Ginny," he said in an almost patronizing tone. "I suppose the most likely ones would be due to the fact that you're staying in rooms near the Aurors, who are walking about at all hours of the night. Beyond that, there are ghosts and owls and even the occasional student who hasn't yet learned proper respect for the rules." He paused to sip at some coffee. "You haven't seen or heard anything, then? Nothing... abnormal?" 

"I slept abnormally well," Ginny offered with a slight smile. 

"That'd be the tea," commented Justinian. "It's good for calming the nerves." 

Lupin looked slightly annoyed by the interruption. "You slept well, then? I wasn't sure how well you'd adjust to staying someplace strange. Of course, after a week in Sirius's old house, it might be a welcome change." 

Ginny stopped eating and looked at Lupin. "You already know that I've been staying there longer than a week," she said in a low voice. 

"And you already know about the rumors traveling between the students," he countered. "Do you have any thoughts you might wish to share with us?" Ginny noticed Professor McGonagall watching their conversation intently. 

She didn't have to look the other direction to know that Hermione was staring at her and Ron was trying to ignore the entire situation. She could see the students talking at their tables, and she knew what they were talking about. She had caught the occasional glance from the younger students who were just learning about her relationship with Harry. 

"I didn't notice anything," she replied. "I told you I slept quite heavily last night." 

Lupin passively accepted the answer, responding only with a dismissive nod and a comment that he might speak to her about it later. This was hardly the thing she wanted to hear, and the rest of her breakfast was not nearly as refreshing as she might have hoped. 

There was little more talk about any of the more serious events of the last few days. Jarvis McManus, the Transfiguration professor and Slytherin Head of House arrived some time later to speak with McGonagall about reserving the Quidditch Pitch for tryouts. The Headmistress appeared annoyed at the very question. 

"None of the other houses have even announced tryouts," she said. "I promise you that I will give you the earliest possible time, but it will not be today, Jarvis. You will just have to be patient." 

"Nifflers find little treasure by being patient," he grumbled. 

"They find even less when they are eaten by Acromantulas," she replied with an arched eyebrow. "My answer is no, Professor McManus. Now, if I'm not mistaken you have a class in ten minutes. You should go before Mr. Houton and Mr. Lange get into another duel." 

Professor McManus frowned, but nodded and left quietly. As if his departure was some cue for the rest of the hall, small groups of students began to stand up and make their way to the door as well. Ginny finished off the slice of toast she'd buttered long ago and when she was finished the Great Hall was close to empty. Most of the professors had left as well. Only McGonagall, Tonks, Lupin, and Professor Flitwick remained. 

"Miss Granger, Miss Weasley," announced Professor McGonagall, "you are both still here at the request of the Ministry of Magic. As Headmistress of this school, it is my duty to attempt to accommodate any requests that you have. However, as a member of the Order of the Phoenix, I would ask that you help us find answers to some questions. I'm sure you will learn enough to satisfy both of your departments."

* * *

Harry paced about the room as he ate one of the apple's he had asked for along with the robes from Madam Malkin's. He'd hoped that he'd be able to sneak off to breakfast with the others and nick some food off the tables, but there was no telling what Hermione would do if she noticed it. Instead, he was forced to eat the food he had ordered as snacks for the next few days. Perhaps Hermione was hoping to starve him until he came out of hiding. 

He had expected her to start complaining about that earlier than she had. In retrospect, she had probably been thinking about it all this time and simply keeping quiet so she would not appear pushy. Ginny had no such concerns. She had bothered him about his reasons for not telling the Order about what happened on a nearly daily basis. Once he began refusing to even speak about it, she stopped asking questions and started making sly comments at appropriate points in other conversations. 

He had thought their complaints would end after the previous day, but it seemed to have only encouraged them. Perhaps they would understand if they could hear what he heard or see what he had seen in the Veil. Couldn't they see that it wasn't over? Couldn't they _feel_ it? He wanted to explain it to Ginny, but he couldn't even explain it to himself. He simply _knew_ that he should remain hidden. It wasn't the right time to reveal himself. He just had to be patient. After all the time he had waited, what did another few weeks —or even months— matter? 

He pushed those thoughts from his mind. He had more pressing concerns on his mind. Someone was trying to make it look as though he was stalking the corridors of Hogwarts. There was only one purpose he could imagine: They were systematically trying to force him to come out of hiding. That alone should have been enough to convince Ginny and Hermione that he should stay hidden. 

Harry ran though the list of people who would know that he hadn't died a year ago. All of his thoughts led back to the same conclusion: Auguste Reynard. Harry had even recognized the blonde witch who had visited the day before. She was an Unspeakable and well trusted by Reynard. As far as he knew, she had been the first and last witch or wizard Reynard had sent to try and kill him. That had been shortly before he left the Brotherhood. After that, it seemed Reynard was content to simply help the Brotherhood do the job for him. Now that the Brotherhood was no longer providing that service, it seemed perfectly logical that Reynard would attempt to finish the task. 

Though Harry had never fully understood how it started, it was clear that Harry was now a threat to Reynard's growing power and influence in the Ministry. Perhaps there had been a time when Reynard would have welcomed Harry's return, but after only a few months with Grigore Tarus, Harry had learned enough that Reynard would always see him as a liability. After Harry left the Brotherhood, they made certain Reynard also knew enough about Harry to ensure that Harry could never use his knowledge to pressure the Ministry. 

They had done it to preserve the all-important balance of nature they were so enamored with. Of course, like so much of the meddling they did in the world, the end result was not nearly as balanced as they had planned. Now Reynard had the upper hand. If Harry revealed himself, Reynard would accuse him of attacking students. It would take much more than rumors and stories to convince the rest of the wizarding world of Reynard's schemes. 

For the time being, he was cornered. The more people who knew about his existence, the more people Reynard could use to manipulate him. If he revealed himself to the world, Reynard would have him thrown in Azkaban. If he remained hidden, Reynard would not stop until he became the Dark Lord Grigore had been trying to warn everyone about. There seemed to be only one way out: He had to figure out how the attack had happened. If he could prove that Reynard was responsible, he could finally be free. 

However, doing that would be much easier if he didn't have to remain hidden. He had slipped out of the room early that morning. He had wanted to see if he could find another copy of _Masters of Malicious Magic_ in the Library, but found it locked tight. The faint flicker of candlelight from the crack under the door told him that someone had either woken up very early, or stayed up very late. 

He had taken Ginny's new amulet with him, hoping that he might find some explanation for the strange feeling he had when he first saw it. Even when he took it from her bed stand, he had quickly slipped it into a pocket. Simply touching it made him feel uncomfortable. If he had not known that it would upset Ginny, he would have simply thrown it into the lake on his way to the owlery. Ginny, however, felt nothing from it, and Harry wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse. He wanted to know where Justinian Lynch had gotten it and why he had given it to her. Like many other things, it was too much of a coincidence to ignore. 

Even more interesting was the scolding he'd received from Hermione that morning when he'd come around to ask her what she knew about the amulet. While he had indeed been walking about the castle, he had been keeping to the most deserted corridors and hadn't seen a single student beyond those making early trips to the prefects' bathroom. When Hermione told him that someone had seen him, he knew there had been a mistake. Someone else was walking about the corridors trying to pass themselves off as him. The conclusion was simple enough to arrive at, and yet it was quite troubling. Whoever attacked Miraphora Franklin was probably still in the castle. 

He was still pacing about the room when a quick knock at the door announced the return of Ginny, Ron, and Hermione. Ron gave him a friendly wave, but Hermione glared coldly at the remnants of the apple in his hand. Ginny pulled a small pouch out of her pocket and enlarged it. 

"We brought you some breakfast," she announced. "We nicked it from the kitchen on our way back. I guess I didn't know you'd get your own food." 

"Thanks," Harry replied. "I don't have much, just a few snacks." 

"Well, I brought you a proper meal or two," she said, holding out the large bag. "Sadly, it might have to last until tonight. I think the three of us will be spending the day in the Library. I'll try to take a break sometime later to let you know what we're finding and see if there's anything you want us to look for." 

"There'll be no need for that," Harry said after swallowing the last bite of his apple. "I'm going to follow you there. I'll be able to help out quite a bit more if I can read over your shoulders and suggest other places to look." 

"No, Harry," snapped Hermione, "you're staying here. If anyone saw you in the Library—" 

"The Library has loads of places to hide," he interrupted. "It's dark. You're surrounded by enormous shelves. Even if anyone would find me, it would only be the people you've been saying I should trust anyway." 

"Fine then, join us," challenged Hermione, "but you'd better be prepared to explain yourself to Lupin." 

Harry narrowed his eyes, remembering the name Grigore had called her: _The Traitor_. "You're going to trick me into revealing myself, are you?" 

Hermione scowled back at him. "No, Harry, you're the one who's been acting strangely. Go get your Invisibility Cloak. And try to keep up. I'll keep my mouth shut, but I'm not going to wait for you."

* * *

The walk to the Library was an easy one. Any students who might normally be up and about at that hour were in class, leaving the corridors as empty as they had been earlier that morning. Hermione knocked at the locked doors and waited patiently as footsteps approached. Lupin opened the door and Hermione held it open as Ron and Ginny entered. She stepped through the doorway and let the door close behind her before Harry had a chance to follow her. A second later, it opened again, revealing an annoyed Ginny Weasley. Harry quickly slipped into the Library and let the door close behind him. 

"Was there a problem with the door?" Lupin asked as they approached the large table where he was sitting. It was mostly clean, but the area around it contained numerous stacks of old books. Lupin himself was sitting in a cushioned chair between a stack of old history texts and another tower of books about healing. There was a second empty chair facing him. 

"Oh, no," Ginny answered quickly, "I was just checking to see if I needed to lock it." 

"Ah," he replied. "No, I charmed it to keep itself locked. Despite all our attempts, there are some students who are too daft to read the notices in their common rooms telling them where the student library has been moved." 

Harry stepped forward slowly and quietly. He pushed the cloak out with his hands and kneeled down. He had gotten quite good at doing such things over the last year. It was unlikely that Ron, Hermione or Ginny even knew where he was now. He leaned closer to a stack of books, examining their titles. They were all books about dark magic. He didn't know if the stack they were in meant they were waiting to be looked at or ready to be returned. 

The room became suddenly silent, and Harry instinctively looked up, ready to respond to some unknown threat. A quick glance at Ginny's face told him that something was coming toward him. He jumped to his feet and began backing away slowly. Seconds later he saw something he had forgotten to plan for. 

A large wolf jogged around the shelf nearest Harry, stopping next to the stack of books he had just been inspecting. It didn't quite look like a normal wolf. It was somewhat stockier, with a longer snout. Its fur was a dark grey, and its black eyes were staring directly at him. Slowly its lips curled back as it began to growl softly. It was then that Harry spotted another difference. He had never seen a wolf with teeth as large as the one before him. Of course, he had never been quite that close, either. 

"Vink!" shouted a voice from behind the snarling animal. "Enough!" 

The wolf immediately stopped growling, but remained frozen in place, still staring directly at Harry. He remained perfectly still as well, hoping that at the very least, the wolf wouldn't move as long as he didn't. From the corners of his eyes, he could see Ron and Hermione pressed against another bookshelf. Ron had put himself between Hermione and the wolf, but had still given the animal as much room as he could. Ginny was not far from where she had been, but she had already pulled her wand. 

"_Vink!_" the voice repeated, sharper this time. A moment later, Valencia Desmoda strode gracefully into view. Without any hesitation she kneeled down next to the large wolf and began stoking its neck. She spoke to it softly: "What is it, Vink?" 

Vink let out another soft growl in response, keeping its eyes fixed on Harry. Valencia turned to look in the same direction. 

"Is something wrong?" Lupin asked from his seat at the table. 

"Not at all," Valencia replied lightly. "Probably just another curious student. Vink has been rather tense lately. He's very smart, you know. He can tell when I'm worried about something." She leaned close to the Vink and rubbed at his neck again. "It's alright, Vink," she whispered. "Go back to sleep. We'll be fine." 

She stood up and Vink immediately turned around and lazily walked out of Harry's view. Valencia turned to Ron, Hermione and Ginny and smiled. "I'm sorry about that. He really is a sweet wolf when he's not tired. Are you here to help us research, then?" 

Hermione nodded, leaning forward to see that Vink really had left. 

"How much do you know about dark magic?" she asked. The three of them exchanged uncertain looks. "Not much, I see. Well, I'm sure that's going to change," she said with a smile. She pointed to the stack of books Harry had been looking at. "Divide those up and come over to the table. We might not know what's causing Miss Franklin's illness, but we're certain that it's dark magic." 

The three of them slowly made their way to the stack, each picking up a number of books. Harry quietly slipped around them and skirted around the table until he found a nice corner off to one side of the table. When Ron, Hermione and Ginny got to the table, Valencia pulled her wand from a pocket and swirled it at the open chair. It jumped and quickly walked itself around the table until it was next to Lupin's chair. She flicked her wand three more times, summoning up a chair for each of them. 

As they set their books on the table, Valencia turned to look directly at Harry. It wasn't the hollow glances that he had grown accustomed to seeing as the wizards around him looked at various things behind him. Her eyes were focused and filled with recognition. With a flick of her wand, a fourth chair appeared only inches from him. Unlike the others, it was made of solid wood, yet carved and contoured enough to look comfortable. 

"Sit down— all of you," she told them cheerily. "I'm sure you'll find the chairs are plenty comfortable enough." She still had not taken her eyes from Harry. 

Lupin looked up from his book. "Why did you summon four chairs?" he asked suspiciously. 

Valencia broke her gaze to smile at him. "Professor McGonagall said she might come by if she had any spare time. She said she wanted to speak with them about their accommodation." Lupin accepted this answer, and returned to his book. Ginny, Ron and Hermione looked confused and concerned for a little while, but once Valencia sat down and paid no more attention to Harry, they relaxed and turned to their own books as well. 

Harry sat in the chair for some time before he finally mustered the courage to stand up and take a look at the books everyone was reading. Ron was the closest. He was sitting next to the wall and turned slightly so that he had a better view of the others. The angle of the book made it difficult to read, but after a little twisting, Harry was able to make out most of the text. He was skimming through a book called _A Field Guide To Horrible Hexes_. Every few pages there were gruesome pictures of the effects of another obscure curse. Ron would stop whenever he saw a witch or wizard with pale or darkened patches of skin. In just the short period of time that Harry watched, he could see that it was unlikely to yield any useful information. 

He turned around and leaned forward slightly to read over Hermione's shoulder. Her book was quite a bit less graphic than Ron's but the writing was also quite a bit smaller, making it harder to understand exactly what sort of information it might have. The chapter was written at the top of the page, however: _Rituals and Sacrificial Incantations_. 

That subject seemed to be closer to what he would have been interested in, but it was impossible to read the text without the book sitting directly in front of him. Hopefully, Hermione would point out anything remotely interesting she found. Harry backed away. Perhaps she had been right. He would be able to better help them if he could sit down and read through the books with them. 

And perhaps that is exactly what Reynard wanted. Even if there was some clue in the book, would Hermione know enough to spot it? Whatever had happened to Miraphora was not something they were going to read about in some book which cataloged known hexes or rituals. If it was known, someone would have figured it out by now. The chances of them finding anything were very small. He had to find some way of telling them what to look for. 

He slowly stepped closer to Ginny, who was sitting across the table from Valencia. The librarian had an enormous book in front of her and didn't even flinch at Harry's approach. Ginny, however, froze as soon as he stepped close. Her head rose slowly and her eyes searched the area where Harry stood. 

"Are you alright, Ginny?" Valencia asked without taking her eyes from the tome in front of her. 

"Oh, er... yeah," she replied. "I thought I heard something but—" 

"It's probably just Vink. He's been sleeping lightly lately," explained Valencia. 

Ginny nodded and turned back to her book. She turned the page and sat back in her chair slowly. Harry stepped closer and looked down at her book. It seemed to be a recounting of various incidents involving dark magic from across Europe. 

"I'm not even sure what I'm looking for," Ginny announced. Her voice sounded strange. It was not said with the customary frustration that such statements usually warranted. Instead it sounded more encouraging, as though she were asking for help. 

"That's unfortunate," Lupin commented. "I rather hoped you would have the best idea of what we were supposed to find." 

"Well I don't," Ginny replied sharply. "Everyone else is saying that this is some sort of disease, but you've got us looking through books about dark magic. I've found a number of reports of wizards dying from unknown spell effects, but that could be anything from transfiguring their cat into a manticore to turning their lungs into sand." 

"That last one's not unknown," Ron commented lazily. "I saw the description of it somewhere in here. It apparently works on the liver as well. Not the heart, though. Apparently the beating fouls it up." 

"Brilliant," Ginny groaned. "At least we've solved one mystery. What about the one we came here for? Am I supposed to be looking for dark wizards who infected others with diseases? Or am I supposed to be searching for wizards who were excellent at creating new ways to hurt others? Honestly, I have pretty much everything in here, and I could flip past the answer to all our questions and never even know it's there." 

This finally caught the attention of Lupin and Valencia. They looked at each other, and Harry caught a brief glimpse of despair in Lupin's eyes. 

"I don't know what we're looking for, Ginny," he replied in a solemn voice. "I've looked over every book in that stack and I didn't find a thing. All we can do is keep looking and hope that something starts to make sense. I've read everything I can find about petrifying curses and controlling curses and venoms and diseases." 

He closed his book and ran his fingers through his greying hair. "I keep feeling like I'm missing something, but I can't figure out what it is. There are loads of things that can darken the blood, but none of them darken the eyes as well. I've found other things that do, but of course, they don't darken the blood or lighten the skin. I've even found some diseases which can increase the chances of accidental magic, but not while one is unconscious. Even if it were a combination, Poppy would have been able to cure part of it." He paused to sigh and stare at Ginny. "I'm sorry, Ginny, I don't even know where to begin looking anymore. No matter where we start, there are a hundred paths which may not lead anywhere at all." 

"Oh, that's easy enough to fix," Ron said as he flipped another page in his book. "You just have to look for things that are harder to find." 

The room became suddenly silent. Ron looked up from his book and stared back at the others. Harry had recognized the tone in his voice. Ron had been making a joke, but it actually wasn't a bad idea. 

"He's brilliant," Valencia said with a smile. 

Hermione seemed to have caught on as well. "Which part of this is most difficult to find an explanation for? That's where we have to start." 

"The eyes?" offered Ron. 

"No," said Lupin. "The Legilimency." 

The others nodded quickly. There was a sense of satisfaction at the feeling of actually forming some sort of plan to find answers. Ginny, however, didn't look as happy as the others. She was leaning forward on the table with her face buried in her hands. She looked up when Valencia left the table to inspect some other stack of books, presumably those which would tell them about every strange way one might accomplish Legilimency. 

"That's not it," she croaked. "It's the Parseltongue." After saying it, her head dropped and turned to face away from Harry. 

Valencia froze and stared at her for a moment. "But the Legilimency would explain that. She's been reading everyone's thoughts. Pomfrey told you that. Speaking Parseltongue was just a manifestation of the Legilimency. She read your thoughts and—" 

"Parseltongue is the key," Ginny said in a stronger voice. "Even if she was reading my thoughts, she couldn't have spoken it so well. Somehow, she's become a Parselmouth." 

Lupin was staring at her skeptically. "What do you mean? That's not—" 

"Don't tell me it's not possible!" Ginny cut him off. "I— Just trust me, please?" she said in a softer voice. "We should start with the Parseltongue." 

Harry wasn't sure if he should be proud or worried. Even he didn't think he'd have been able to see the answer so clearly, and yet he knew that Ginny had only thought of it because she had heard Harry speaking the same words Miraphora had. He hoped that if they looked for the Parseltongue, it would lead them back to the Death Gates, and that would eventually lead them to the Department of Mysteries. If they could find proof of Reynard's involvement, he would have the upper hand, and Reynard wouldn't be able to threaten him. 

An icy chill ran up his spine. _What if their research didn't lead to Reynard?_ Harry tried to ignore the thought but it refused to be pushed away easily. _It was Reynard,_ he reassured himself, _that was the only explanation which made sense._

None of the others at the table had any idea of the momentary battle which had occurred in Harry's mind. Instead, they were trying to make sense of Ginny's suggestion. 

"What if she's a Parselmouth?" Ron asked. "I mean, no one knew that Harry was a Parselmouth until his second year. What if she found some other way into the Chamber of Secrets? She might not have known about the Basilisk, and—" 

"It's not a Basilisk," Lupin replied dismissively. "If she had seen a Basilisk, she'd be dead or petrified, and she's neither." 

This seemed to baffle Ron for a moment, allowing Hermione to speak. "Still, it's a good point, isn't it? Do we know for certain that she isn't a Parselmouth? It might not explain what happened to her, but it might be a reason why she was attacked. It's always been a sign of dark wizards so maybe someone else found out and felt threatened." 

"Perhaps you were not told," spoke Valencia, "but Miss Franklin is a Muggle-born student. I don't think there has ever been a Muggle-born Parselmouth." 

Ginny remained silent. She was sitting back in her chair again, looking as though she were deep in thought. Harry wished he knew what she was thinking. Something told him that she was already working on the right answer. She just needed to find a way to tell the others. Perhaps she would succeed where he had failed. 

"Well it's not like she learned to speak Parseltongue from a book," Ron commented. "Either she's a Parselmouth or she was faking it." 

Lupin was watching the discussion intently, but making no comments or additions. He seemed to be waiting for something. 

Hermione closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. "Well, there is..." she began, but paused abruptly. Her eyes opened and Harry caught them glancing over at Ginny for an instant. "There must be—" she began again before stopping just as suddenly. She sighed and sat back in her chair much like Ginny. "What if... What if there was a way to _make_ someone a Parselmouth?" 

Lupin's eyebrows jumped and the corners of his mouth twitched, but he still remained silent. 

"You mean like a charm?" Ron asked. "Well, maybe..." he replied with a thoughtful look. "I know there are charms which can be used to teach people how to speak other magical languages, but Parseltongue..." 

Valencia's elegant voice rose above Ron's: "If speaking Parseltongue could be accomplished by a charm it would not be regarded as such a rare and distinctive trait. I know the charms you speak of. I'm certain I know many more, but I can assure you that it would take more than a simple charm to do such a thing. I have read of wizards who tried to learn it. All have failed. It would take centuries to become fluent." 

Ron frowned. "She sounded like she had a pretty good grasp of it." 

Hermione slowly looked up. From where he stood it was hard to tell, but from Lupin's reaction, he was pretty certain she was looking at him. 

"This isn't the first time it's happened," she said. "There was another first-year who suddenly started speaking Parseltongue." 

Ginny's head jerked to the side to glare at Hermione. Across the table, Lupin looked both pleased and sympathetic. "You're quite right Hermione, but Ginny isn't a Parselmouth, and she didn't speak it because of any charm or hex that had been cast on her." 

"She was possessed by Voldemort," Ron replied. "Are you saying you think that he's still here?" 

"No," Lupin replied assuredly, "I am certain he is gone." 

"Then say whatever it is you're thinking!" Ron snapped testily. "You obviously have some idea. It can't have happened the same way. Ginny had Voldemort's diary, but it's been destroyed. All of the horcruxes have." 

Lupin leaned forward with a glint of excitement in his eyes. "Yes, they have," he agreed, "but it proves that it is possible, doesn't it?" He turned to look at Ginny. "For a time, you were the host to a shred of Voldemort's power and during that time, you became a Parselmouth. No charm can make someone become a Parselmouth, but it seems that possession can." 

"But you said Voldemort is gone," Hermione commented. "Who else could do something like this?" 

"Remember Ron's suggestion," Lupin said, sounding very much like a professor. "We should look for the most uncommon trait of the thing we wish to find. There are many wizards evil enough to enjoy possessing and torturing young children. However, the number of wizards capable of Parseltongue is amazingly small." 

Valencia chimed in: "By all accounts, Tom Riddle was the last Parselmouth born, and all of his ancestors were dead long before he returned to power. If it is not him, then we are at a loss. There are no other Parselmouths." 

"Tom Riddle may have been the last Parselmouth born, but he was not the only Parselmouth the world knew. In Ginny's first year, _two_ people opened the Chamber of Secrets: Ginny and _Harry_." 

"Harry isn't doing this," growled Ginny. 

"He is the only other possibility," Lupin replied. "We have no idea how he died. Perhaps Voldemort found some way to force Harry to leave part of himself behind. Whatever is controlling Miss Franklin knew just what to do to get the three of you here. She had been laying quietly until you arrived. She looks just like Ginny. She was laid out in a way that very few people would know about. And last night—" 

"It _isn't Harry,_" Ginny repeated louder. 

"I know you don't want to hear this, Ginny, but you have to let go of him. If this is Harry, then whatever state he is in is undoubtedly torture beyond anything we could imagine. Refusing to address this will do him a much greater disservice than the disrespect you're trying to save him from." 

"How can you believe this is Harry?" Ginny asked. "He would never do anything like this." 

"We can't even know that he knows what he's doing," Lupin replied. "He might be little more than an angry spirit filled with years of unhappy memories. It may not be Harry as any of us knew him. We have to—" 

"I have to agree with Ginny," Valencia interrupted. Harry turned to look at her and found her staring directly at him again. Her mouth twitched into a momentary smile, then she turned to Lupin. "Though I never met him, I cannot believe these are his actions. The anger in this attack seems to be directed at Ginny, and not even a fragment of Harry's former self would ever display that." She frowned and shook her head. "Ginny's right, Remus. This isn't Harry." 

"How can you know that?" he replied. 

"I don't know," she answered with a look of honest confusion. "I just feel certain that he's not the one behind this." 

"Well, what do you propose we do, then? This is the only headway we've made in two days." 

Valencia looked at the ceiling for a moment. "We're on the right track, we have simply found the wrong answer because we saw it as the only one. We should take away the possibility that Harry is involved and see what else we can find." 

Lupin sat back in his chair. "We should take away the only answer we've found? That leaves us with nothing." 

"It really doesn't," she told him in a comforting tone. "There is more than one way to cause someone to become a Parselmouth. Harry was not possessed by a piece of Voldemort's soul." 

"That's right," Ron called out. "He got it from his scar, a nasty-looking one on his forehead. The girl... She had a great black patch right in the same place." 

Hermione was quick to point out that Harry was the only wizard in history who had ever lived though the Killing Curse, but Valencia seemed to have an answer as soon as Hermione finished; "Yes, but that is not the only curse which is capable of leaving a scar... or an injury which would be slow to heal." 

She practically jumped out of her seat and strode away toward her large desk, making her long robes flutter in the air behind her. She returned with a pair of books. One of them was very thick and dusty. Valencia dropped it in the center of the table. Harry shuffled to the right a few steps to read the title: _St. Mungo's Catalogue of Unidentified Ailments_. 

"It will be a lot easier to look through that if we're looking for curse scars and not blood problems," she announced. 

The second book was much smaller. It looked quite a bit more worn than the other, but not so much to obscure its cover. Large gold letters spelled out its title: _A Study of Permanent Magical Maladies_. Below this was a cracked illustration of a rather unfortunate wizard who had recently grown a single curving horn from his forehead. 

"I remember seeing a whole chapter on curse scars in here," Valencia reported as she broke open the book and began flipping through the pages quickly. 

Ron, Hermione and Ginny opened the other, larger book and began searching through it. Lupin stood up and began pacing about the room, forcing Harry to retreat to his chair against the wall. 

"I still cannot see how this can take us anywhere but back to our previous conclusion," he remarked. "Harry was a Parselmouth because part of Lord Voldemort's power was transferred to him when his scar was created. Not only do we not know how such a thing could be duplicated, but it would still require another Parselmouth." 

"You were ready to believe that a dead wizard had possessed Miss Franklin," Valencia declared without looking up from the book. "Harry Potter is certainly not the only dead Parselmouth. Perhaps it is not Miraphora who is possessed but someone else, the wizard seen walking the corridors last night, perhaps." Hermione's head jerked a little at this, but she didn't do anything but cast a quick warning glance at Ginny. 

Lupin had made his way to the same large stack of books that Ron, Hermione and Ginny had been looking through earlier. He scanned down the pile and carefully pulled one out of the bottom half of the stack. Harry couldn't see what it was, so he carefully stood up and circled around the table, following Lupin to his seat. He nervously peered around Lupin's shoulder to look at the book. It seemed to be an old journal of sorts. It was written in fancy, looping script, though the occasional droplet of ink or scribbled mistake could be found. Harry squinted to read a few sentences and realized that it truly was some wizard's journal. Someone had committed the story of their education in the dark arts to a book. The idea disgusted Harry, but he could see why Lupin had gone for it. The pages he was currently reading recounted the wizard's first attempts to possess a witch who had reported some of his earlier crimes. 

"Here we are," called out Valencia. "On the whole, this author is far too long winded and the book can be rather boring, but some of the pages can be quite useful." She began summarizing a number of pages to the others. According to the book, curse scars were the result of the transfer of large amounts of magical energy. They were rare because the witch or wizard receiving the scar seldom survived the process of its creation. However, when they did, it was common for the victim to discover that the scar had special properties. 

It went on to say that because of the rarity of these scars, in earlier times they had been prized by those who had received them. At a number of points through history, wizards had attempted to develop methods of producing scars which would not kill the recipients. Like many such schemes, it was done for gold. 

Harry shifted back to the left so that he could get a glimpse of this book. It sounded like the most promising thing they had read all day. 

The book continued on into a number of quick discussions, each one less relevant than the one before. Valencia seemed equally disappointed by this and she quickly began paging through the rest of the chapter. As she continued, the book began reporting a number of known curse scars and the causes behind them. 

A shadow fell over the book for a moment, and Harry thought he was about to be discovered. He flinched and he let out a short gasp. Ginny was standing on the other side of Valencia, staring down at the book. 

"Oh, sorry," Valencia announced, rubbing her nose. "These pages are rather dusty." 

Lupin and the others returned to their books and Harry carefully backed away before walking around to stand behind Ginny. As he had done in the days before, as he approached he pressed an invisible hand against Ginny's lower back to tell her that he was there. 

Harry scanned each of the reports as Ginny and Valencia looked through them. Perhaps if he could simply find some report of something involving the Ministry or even the Department of Mysteries, it would be enough to get them to start looking in the right place. That wasn't going to be easy to accomplish. Most of the reports were from other countries at much earlier times. 

One report was about a wizard who had been given multiple scars during an attempt to subdue a dragon in Germany. The dragon had grabbed the man and used him as a shield to the charms and hexes of no less than twenty other wizards. Another report told of a pair of wizards who had been researching a new shield spell. Something had gone terribly wrong, and instead of reflecting the hex cast to test it, the charm had intensified it, leaving one of the pair with a scar that looked rather like a many pointed compass on the man's chest. 

Harry scanned report after report, seeing nothing that would help them. It seemed that despite the earlier claims, curse scars were more likely the causes of accidents and mistakes than true malice. The longer he read, the more he felt they should simply be looking somewhere else. One wizard lost both his eyes in a duel with his wife. There was no explanation given for the fight, but it wasn't hard to guess. In another case, a wizard had lost his ability to smell after being hit in the face with a poorly cast Cruciatus curse. A third was given permanent laryngitis after an unknown incident. Though the scar was minor, whatever curse he'd been hit with had been enough to drive him to insanity. Just as Valencia turned the page, Harry caught the final words: 

_The British Ministry has refused to comment on this report._

It was an explained incident that the Ministry wouldn't talk about. That usually meant that the Department of Mysteries was involved. Of course, it could be nothing, but he couldn't simply ignore it. Harry quickly poked at Ginny's back, hoping she would understand. 

"Wait," she told Valencia quickly. "Go back a moment." Valencia turned back to the previous page and she and Ginny began reading it more carefully. 

"What did you see?" Valencia asked. Now that Ginny had claimed that there was something important, Harry could see her scanning the page, urgently looking for whatever it was that he had seen. "There's nothing here," Valencia commented. "It's just another researcher who went insane when he fouled up some charm. It happens all the time." 

"He worked for the Ministry!" Ginny called out, sounding quite a bit like she had not known this when she had asked Valencia to return to that page. "He wasn't just researching, he was researching for the Ministry." 

"He worked for the Department of Mysteries?" asked Hermione. 

"It doesn't say," Ginny replied "It doesn't say much at all. It doesn't say where the scar was, or who else was with him, or what he was doing, or even where he was." Harry smiled to himself. She'd found it. Maybe if they started researching the Department of Mysteries, they'd be able to find some link to Reynard. 

"Is that supposed to mean something to us?" Lupin asked. "I imagine he wasn't the first employee of the Department of Mysteries who ended up insane." He paused, then cocked his head to one side. "Of course, it is a bit odd that they would tell anyone about it. They aren't the sort to make things like this public. Usually they just hide them away somewhere where no one will ever find them." 

"He was taken to St. Mungo's," Ginny said excitedly. "It says the curse scar wasn't bad. They probably thought it was something that could be healed. They didn't find out until much later that the Healers weren't able to do anything for him." 

"That sounds like an 'Unidentified Ailment' to me," commented Rom. "I think this bloody thing has indexes by name and year. Do you have either of those?" 

Valencia was the first to respond: "The year was 1842 and it says the wizard's name was Winston Fulbright." 

"That was a hundred and fifty years ago," exclaimed Lupin. "The only thing he has in common with Miraphora Franklin is a possible curse scar. Everything else is different." 

No one else seemed to be listening to him. Ron was already flipping through the first pages of the huge book. Harry waited impatiently as Ron searched for information. He wasn't sure what he expected Ron and Hermione to find, or whether it would even help, but he had to follow through now that he'd put this into motion. 

"Here we are!" Ron called out. "Fulbright, Winston! Page thirty-one thousand three hundred thirty-seven!" Together he and Hermione heaved most of the pages from one side of the book to the other in search of the correct page. After a number of fumbled pages, they finally stopped and leaned over the page, reading the script together. 

Hermione frowned. "It looks like another dead end," she told them all. "The scar is on his finger, not his forehead. He was taken to St. Mungo's because he said it was just a minor burn. The Healers—" 

Lupin stopped her. "Wait, I thought he had laryngitis?" 

"It says here that he was speaking with the Healers," Hermione replied with a shrug. "It wasn't until later when he began to slip into unconsciousness, that his speech became unintelligible. They figured it was simply caused by the pain." Hermione looked up at Ginny. "That was what drove him insane, I would guess. I suppose it's a bit curious that there would be that much pain from a burn, but it doesn't seem to help us." 

"There seems to be a bit more to it," Ron announced as he continued reading. "They tried to treat the burn, but apparently nothing worked. It says here that the burn started spreading, and that they believed it was actually caused by an unknown form of magical poisoning. The Ministry wouldn't tell them what Fulbright had been working on, and his voice was nothing more than unrecognizable whispers." 

This caught Ginny's attention. "This book said he had laryngitis. That one said he spoke in unrecognizable whispers. What if he was really just speaking Parseltongue? You might think it was just the whisperings of an insane wizard if you'd never heard it before." 

"—Or if you didn't want to admit what it was to St. Mungo's," added Lupin gravely. He stood up and began walking toward the fireplace on the far wall. "His name was Winston Fulbright, right?" Valencia turned to nod to him. 

Lupin grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and tossed it into the gentle flames while saying: "Arthur Weasley". The fire roared with a rush of green sparks and moments later Lupin was kneeling before the fire and leaning his head into the flames. Harry watched with amused curiosity. Some things were still terribly odd to him. After only a few seconds, Lupin pulled back and stood up while dusting the ashes out of his hair. 

"He wasn't there?" Ron asked. 

"He was," answered Lupin, "but this is a question which is safer when discussed from this side of the Floo. He'll be along shortly." True to his word, the flames turned green a moment later and Arthur Weasley's head appeared in the flames. 

"Oh, hello there," he said, sounding a little flustered. "Ron, Ginny! I— Remus didn't say you were there! It's nice to see you —and Hermione, too— but... We were a bit hurt you didn't come to visit us earlier." 

Ron started to speak, but Lupin cut him off. "We'll have to trust they had a good reason Arthur, and I didn't intend to speak to you about them." 

"Oh," Arthur replied quickly, "Right. What is it, Remus? Lynch again? I'm afraid we haven't been able to find anything more—" 

"No, it's something else," Lupin interrupted. "A wizard by the name of Winston Fulbright. He was a Ministry employee in 1842 and was involved in some sort of magical accident. We'd like to know anything you can find on him, but we're most interested in whatever it was he was working on at the time of that accident." 

Arthur had a thoughtful expression on his face. "We should have all the records from that year. Do you know the date of the accident?" 

"The fourteenth of March," Ron called out. 

"Alright," Arthur replied with a nod. "I'll see what I can find. It's a slow day here, so it shouldn't take very long." 

After Arthur left, everyone returned to the books and started trying to compare the two accounts to figure out just what happened. The more they read, the happier Harry got. He'd thought it would only be a way to point them in the right direction, but now it seemed that they had stumbled across something much more important. It wasn't an answer to their riddle, it was a separate riddle which appeared to have the same answer. If they could find out what had happened before, it might tell them what was happening now. Even more importantly, Harry realized that it might explain how Reynard had done it. 

As Harry paced about invisibly, the others read and re-read the two passages, looking for any other piece of information which might help. The Healers at St. Mungo's never found a cure for Fulbright. After a week of watching him, they called in other healers from Belgium, Egypt and China. They had even brought in a shaman from Brazil. It sounded as though they were able to improve his condition to some degree, but after another two weeks the Ministry requested that he be transferred back to a Ministry room for further study. After a few more weeks, they reported their final conclusion to St. Mungo's: permanent laryngitis complicated by insanity. 

This was met by quite a bit of skepticism. At that point, they were all assuming that he had been working for the Department of Mysteries. It was unlikely the Ministry would report the true cause or nature of his problems. Still, they continued searching for any minuscule hints which might point them in the right direction. When the two books they had on the table stopped being interesting, they began scouring the rest of the Library for any books which might mention anything noteworthy that had happened at Hogwarts or the Ministry. 

Unfortunately, 1842 seemed an entirely unremarkable year. There was no new Minister of Magic or Headmaster of Hogwarts. There was no Quidditch World Cup and no Triwizard Tournament. The most important thing that had happened the entire year was the invention of a new potion which allowed fruits and vegetables to grow to much larger sizes. 

When the fire in the fireplace glowed green all of them dropped their work and huddled around Arthur's face, hoping for some good news. 

"Well, the Ministry has no information at all about a Winston Fulbright at that time," Arthur told them. Hermione sighed in frustration, but Lupin only raised an eyebrow in curiosity. 

"Really? There's nothing?" he asked. 

"There are no records which confirm his existence," Arthur continued with a faint smile, "but I'd say he did quite a bit more travel than most people who don't exist." 

"Well, without having to deal with existence, you would have quite a bit more time on your hands," commented Lupin. 

Arthur let out a short laugh. "I imagine you would. It appears that not existing has its benefits. In this case, our non-existent wizard appears to have taken a tour of all the most prestigious libraries. Let's see, there was Paris and Rome and Istanbul. Interestingly, he made a stop at Hogwarts. There was also Kiev, Barcelona, Salem, Athens and Egypt. And those were just the ones from the three weeks before Winston Fulbright materialized in St. Mungo's." 

"If there are no records of him, how do you know he was the one going to all those places?" Hermione asked. 

"A guess, I suppose," answered Arthur. "In each instance, there was a request to connect the destination to the Floo Network. They were all filled out in the same handwriting. However, the requests stop on the twelfth of March after a visit to the enormous underground library in Kiev. There was another Floo connection scheduled for the fourteenth, but it was canceled the day before. Another cancellation was sent the fifteenth. It was written in different handwriting and listed the reason for the change as: _Visit delayed due to magical injury._" 

"It sure sounds like him," commented Lupin. "What else do you know?" 

"Nothing for certain," Arthur replied. "Considering his non-existence, I'd have to say that he worked for the Department of Mysteries. They didn't have Unspeakables until sometime after 1860, but that is probably what he would have been. Considering his travel plans, I'd have to guess that he was primarily a researcher, rather like Hermione, but with more serious subjects." 

"Do you know what he was researching?" she asked him. 

"Oh, they would never let him put that down on a form," Arthur said. "I thought you'd have a better chance at finding that information than I would." 

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Not anymore." 

Lupin frowned and continued questioning Arthur. "Is that all? Are there any more travel records? Anything else you could find?" 

"Not for him," Arthur said gravely. "I think I found his wife, though. She received a vault of gold on the fourth of May. It was a standard arrangement set up for the wives of wizards killed while working for the Ministry. It seems there was a dispute over the amount, however. The original amount was..." Arthur paused for a moment. "It was half the final gift. Someone amended it shortly after it was first filed. There was also a note stating that there were no remains. It said they had been "magically displaced". I'll let you decide how to interpret that. Beyond that, there was truly nothing. Now, I'm afraid I really must go before someone comes to my door." 

Arthur's head disappeared from the fire, and the greenish glow of the fire gradually faded back to a soft orange. Harry looked around at the faces of his friends. They seemed both encouraged and confused at the same time. Their guesses had been confirmed, yet it didn't seem like they had much to go on. 

"What was all that about getting only half the money?" Ron asked. "He said it like it meant something." 

"It does," Lupin replied quickly. "The Ministry is not a completely heartless place. They donate gold to the families of witches and wizards who die while performing tasks for the Ministry. The more important the work, the more gold. However, there are policies to prevent wizards from abusing their generosity. The Ministry only pays half the amount if the employee took their own life." 

"So this Fulbright bloke snuffed himself, and the Ministry changed the records to make it look like he didn't, right?" After getting a nod from Lupin, Ron continued: "What about his remains being 'magically displaced'? Did he mean 'magically misplaced'? Was it just a lie to hide how he died?" 

"I'm afraid not," Lupin said as he turned and walked back to the table. "Those records are checked by the Wizengamot for falsehoods. Too many wizards have escaped by faking their deaths. No, in this case 'magical displacement' is the term the Ministry has used in the past to describe various deaths where the deceased died in such a way that their bodies did not exist in any specific place at the time of their death. Common examples would be the occasional fatal splinching or the rarer occurrence of a poorly created Portkey." 

Hermione turned to follow him. "But Portkeys aren't allowed in the Department of Mysteries and there are wards against Apparition." 

"Yes, I know," Lupin answered. He had turned his back to the rest of them as he walked to a large shelf and began searching for a new book. His voice had taken on a heavy, weary overtone. "There is, however, one other way to leave the Department of Mysteries. Luckily, none of you have ever seen it." 

"The Veil," Ginny announced clearly. 

"Yes," Lupin said as he pulled a thick book from the shelves. "That is how they described Sirius's death in the official report." 

Harry stood fixed in his spot. Could it be true? Did he kill himself by walking through the Veil? Or was he forced through? Did it matter? There were too many links, too many shared details. The Ministry had seen this disease before. Perhaps it was something they had even created. 

"What are you looking for?" Valencia asked as she craned her neck to read over Lupin's shoulder. 

Lupin explained himself as he continued reading: "Fulbright was searching for something. He was systematically visiting a selection of old libraries across the world. It seems difficult to believe that it had nothing to do with what happened to him. Perhaps if we can find some pattern in his choices we'll have someplace to start looking. We can start by finding what subjects those libraries share expertise in." 

"I may be able to do more than that, Remus," Valencia said with an excited gleam in her eyes. "The man you were speaking to mentioned Barcelona. Fulbright must have visited the _Biblioteca de la Magia Antigua_. If he requested anything out of the ordinary, there would have been a record." 

Lupin's face lit up. "And you think you can get it?" 

A wide smile broke across Valencia's face. "Of course I can," she replied in a silky voice. 

"You're an amazing witch, you know," Lupin said. 

Valencia was twisting her hair into a tight knot behind her head, but she looked back over her shoulder to respond. "You have no idea." She gave him a quick wink and then continued walking away with sensual grace. 

When Lupin turned back to his book, he found Ron, Hermione and Ginny staring at him strangely. He cleared his throat and quickly went about ordering them on different tasks to do while they waited for whatever information Valencia could get from her old library. 

Hermione started helping Lupin search for similarities between the libraries Mr. Weasley had named. Ginny began searching through old history books for anything of interest that might have happened shortly after 1842. It was possible that someone would try and continue Fulbright's research, and perhaps they would be able to spot another occurrence now that they knew what to expect. Ron had been given the most boring task of the three, in Harry's opinion. He was searching through the history of the Ministry, looking for some living relative of any of the wizards Fulbright had worked with. 

After ten minutes, Valencia returned looking quite hopeful. She immediately joined Lupin and Hermione. After another ten minutes, Ginny had discarded her book and moved on to paging through ancient copies of the _Prophet_. Valencia, Lupin and Hermione were scratching away at the same piece of parchment in a quest that looked increasingly futile. Ron was leaning over four different books, and looking from one to the other in complete bewilderment. 

"They're all dead," he announced, making it sound like more of a question. 

Hermione was the first to speak up. "Of course they are, Ron. It's been over a hundred and fifty years," she said in a bored voice. "Lupin told you to look for their children or nephews or nieces or—" 

"I know that," Ron replied flatly. "That's who I was looking for, but... Well, they're all dead." 

This caught Lupin's attention. "What about their children? Or friends?" 

"Well, there isn't really a registry of friends, but everyone I've looked at is dead, and that's not the most unusual part. Look at this." Ron pushed one of the larger books to the center of the table. "Here's the Head of the Department of Mysteries in 1842, Warren Hamwood. He died a year later when his house collapsed on him. Killed his son and daughter, too. His wife was the only one to survive. Didn't last, though. She was killed three months later when her broom malfunctioned." 

Hermione squinted at the book. "Sometimes these things happen," she tried to argue. 

Ron frowned. "Cassandra McGarrity. She had been working at the Ministry for twenty years and replaced Hamwood. She was killed a year after taking his place when a shop she had entered exploded. A month earlier she had lost her son when he got into a duel with the wrong wizard in Rome. Her husband was killed a few months later when he tried to fight off another wizard who had come to rob his house." 

"There must be someone..." Hermione said, now searching intently through Ron's notes. 

"That's what I thought," he said. "Here's one who was poisoned. A family who was lost at sea. A witch who was killed by a Bludger at a Quidditch match. Her husband died in a dragon attack abroad. Another family— killed by a nasty outbreak of dragon pox, this time. Werewolf attack. Trolls." He stopped to poke at the parchment. "This poor bloke got a broomstick through the chest during a demonstration of a new design. Just look at the employment records. The Department of Mysteries hired enough people to replace the entire department _twice_ in just ten years." 

Ron turned back to the books and flipped a few more pages. "It doesn't even stop there. The Healer who had been looking after him in St. Mungo's was sent to Azkaban for possession of dark artifacts. He died in his sleep a year later. Another Healer died after developing a horrible fever. Another was ambushed by grindylows and drowned." 

Ron threw up his hands in defeat. "They're all dead. That doesn't just happen. You can't tell me that the Department of Mysteries was so worried about him that they killed everyone who knew him, _including themselves._" 

Lupin started to reply, but at that moment, green sparks burst from the fire and the face of a grey-haired woman appeared in the flames. Valencia jumped to her feet and strode to the fireplace. Harry walked slowly and quietly closer to the flames to make sure he could hear their conversation. 

"Ah, there you are, Madam," the witch said with a smile. She glanced over at the table and smiled. "I see you are not alone. Are they friends of yours?" 

"I trust them," Valencia replied. 

The old woman gave her a curious look. "Do you, now? As much as you have trusted me?" 

Valencia ignored the question. "You still owe me a few favors. I trust you were not hoping that I might forget about them." 

The smile vanished from the witch's face. "No. No, of course not. My memory has not deteriorated that much, though I will say that this discussion will repay more than one of those favors: one for my speech and one for my silence." 

Valencia looked over at the table where the others were listening as well. She nodded quickly at the witch. 

"The wizard you are asking about did indeed come to this library in March of 1842. He spent many hours here, but asked for only two books. One was the _Directory of Libraries_. He asked for the 1320 edition, which we had of course, though only in Latin." 

"That is only of marginal help to us," Valencia replied disappointedly. "We already know he was searching old libraries. What was the other?" 

"_A History of Magic,_" the woman replied stiffly, adding: "Volume Two." 

"Two?" Valencia asked in surprise. "You're certain? You need to check—" 

"Yes, Madam Desmoda, I remember how to verify this. Winston Fulbright read the book." 

Harry noted a hint of urgency in Valencia's voice as she leaned closer to the fire. "Is there any note about what he was searching for? Were there no other books?" 

The witch stared back at her with narrowed eyes. "You already know that there were no other books and that we cannot tell what he sought or found in _A History of Magic_. Why do you ask? What request are you preparing to make?" 

"I need to borrow that book," Valencia said in a low voice. "I will return it before dawn tomorrow." 

The grey-haired witch frowned and shook her head disapprovingly. "Madam Desmoda, your memory is failing you. Books cannot be taken without a proper, authorized request, and the magistrate would never authorize such a request. You know that." 

"I know _you_," Valencia purred, "and you have not forgotten. You have the book already. Pass it to me and your debt shall be lessened greatly." 

"Very well," the woman agreed. Harry watched as a large book appeared in the fireplace and slowly extended toward Valencia on a disembodied arm. She took the book in both hands, and waited for the witch to return. 

"You should know that Mr. Fulbright was banished from this library for reading that book," the old witch said with a smile. "Less than six hours after he requested it brought to him, the library receive an order to have him expelled immediately and to never allow him to return." 

"It's lucky then that no one will know that we have it," Valencia told the witch firmly. Without another word, the witch disappeared and the fireplace returned to normal once again. 

Harry followed closely behind Valencia as she strode back over to the table where the others were waiting. The sound of the cover striking the table was abnormally loud. Harry shuffled closer. The cover was dark and smooth. A closer inspection revealed that it was actually bound between two slabs of black slate. In the dim light, he could barely make out the letters carved into its chipped surface. 

Valencia quickly opened the cover and turned the first few pages until she found a single blank page bordered by a flowing pattern printed in deep red. She picked up a spare quill and offered it to Hermione. She took the quill but stared back in confusion. When Valencia told her to write her name, Hermione looked as though she'd just been asked to perform the Killing Curse on a kitten. 

Valencia rolled her eyes and snatched the quill from Hermione quickly. She handed it to Ginny instead and ordered her to do the same. Slowly, Ginny reached forward and scrawled her name in the large empty space. The ink glistened for a moment, then sunk into the page and disappeared. Ginny jumped out of her chair, and Harry instinctively moved to stop her from running away. 

Before he reached her, Valencia had jumped in his path and placed a reassuring hand on Ginny's shoulder. Lupin had stood up as well and he slowly picked up the quill and signed his name as well. He passed the quill to Ron and explained that it was a very powerful charm that had been placed on many old, important books. Anyone wishing to read the book would need only to sign their name, and the book would appear to them translated into their native tongue. There was no soul in the book, and Ginny had nothing to fear. 

Ron and Hermione signed the book next, though Hermione did so only with noticeable effort. Valencia explained that she did not have to sign, since she had looked at this volume before, and it would remember her. Of course, she would be reading the text in Spanish, not English. 

Harry felt a pang of frustration again at his decision to remain hidden. There was no way that he would be able to sign without everyone noticing. He would have to simply stand and listen, hoping that they would be able to find the right hints. They had done better than he could have expected already, with a little luck, they would find what they needed to continue the search. 

Valencia turned the first few pages to reveal what looked like a listing of chapters. Harry blinked and almost cried out in surprise. He could read the chapter names. The script they were written in looked oddly wavy and indistinct, but it was readable. Was this page charmed to be readable by everyone? Was that even possible? The others huddled around, forcing Harry to sneak around the table and read the book upside down. 

"There's no way to tell what Fulbright was looking for in this book," Valencia told them. "We just have to hope that we're able to find something before dawn. If anyone has suggestions on where to start, I'd be interested in hearing them." 

Harry and everyone else began searching the list of chapter titles and descriptions. He had hoped that the chapters might have a little more predictable, but they seemed to be a completely random selection of broad topics. There was a chapter on potion-making, another on wands, and another that claimed to explain the history and basis of transfiguration. 

"Here's one on dark magic," Ron called out, pointing at a chapter listed on the next page. "We're still expecting this is dark magic, aren't we?" 

As Harry was reading the description, his eyes jumped a little farther down the page. They stopped three chapters down, on an entry named: _Mortality_. He squinted at the description and slowly read it silently: _Life, Death, and the Gateways Between Them: A discussion of the creation of life, the certainty of death and the search to escape both._

A voice in the back of his head was practically shouting that this was the correct chapter. He didn't know how he was certain, but he was. Why was Fulbright interested in that chapter? 

Valencia reached to turn the page, and without thinking, Harry waved his hands as if everyone might see him and stop her. To his surprise, she did stop. "I feel there's something here I'm missing," she announced to the others. 

"You don't think it's the Dark Magic chapter?" Hermione asked. Valencia shook her head slowly. 

Harry circled around the table to stand behind Ginny. Very carefully, he reached up with one hand and tapped her shoulder three times. Ginny stiffened immediately. Her head jerked back to the first page and she read out loud: "_The Origin of Magical Creatures_?" She looked up at everyone else. "Does that seem right. I mean—" 

"No, I think we've already discarded the idea of a creature doing this," Lupin said dismissively. 

Ginny nodded, and Harry again tapped on her shoulder. However, this time he tapped her right shoulder, and he counted out the number of entries until the chapter he'd seen a minute ago. 

Ginny spoke up again. "There's a chapter here on Portkeys which might— Hold on!" she cried out. "_Mortality!_ Gateways between life and death! What if Fulbright was researching the Veil in the Ministry? This is a chapter about gateways between life and death and immortality!" 

Without waiting for anyone else to remark, Valencia quickly began searching for the chapter. The pages were darkened by time, with cracks and missing bits all along their edges. Valencia's fingers were gentle and nimble as they pulled pages from one side to the other, looking for the chapter Ginny had pointed out. After only a minute of searching, she found it. 

Harry circled around until he found a gap which would give him a view of the pages. To his surprise, he was still able to read them, though they looked even more hazy and wavy than they had before. The harder he tried to read them, the more difficult it was, so he simply relaxed and tried to skim the lines which were easier to read. 

"As Ron said, we're almost certainly dealing with dark magic so we can probably skip over Rejuvenation Rites and a lot of the rest of this," commented Lupin. Valencia continued to turn the pages until they came to a rough drawing of the Philosopher's Stone. It was only a momentary pause, though when she continued, her pace was slowed somewhat. 

Harry started to recognize more of the topics. Some of them had been mentioned in his years at Hogwarts, others he remembered from Grigore's teachings. Valencia turned another page and Harry easily read the large heading: _Horcruxes_. 

Was that how he could read the book? Was this where Tom Riddle had read about how to create horcruxes? Did the book think he was Lord Voldemort? Harry looked closer at the text and realized that the script was not truly hazy as he had thought. It was _moving_, slithering slightly back and forth on the page in nonsensical shapes that his mind had been translating for him. 

He was reading the book in Parseltongue. 

A wave of revulsion swept over him and he turned away to keep himself from being sick. He had been reading the very same pages which had been the inspiration for years of torture and death. So much pain had come from a single book, and now he was paging through it just like Voldemort had. When he turned back, he found everyone leaning close to the page. From where he stood, it was impossible to read. These pages had been darkened even more than the others, and the text was barely discernible. 

"Enough of that," Ron said as he backed away from the table and began walking toward Harry. Harry sidestepped to stay out of Ron's way and watched him as he walked to the window. "We'll never read anything with only a pair of candles," he grumbled. "I'll squint tonight. We might as well use the sun while we've got it." 

With one motion, he reached for the curtains and pulled them open. Immediately a shaft of golden light stabbed into the room, bathing the table and everyone sitting around it in the late-morning sunlight. 

Valencia flashed a baleful look at him. Her pale face shown against the darkened shelves of books like the moon though a hazy night sky. Her eyes blazed with anger and in an instant, she had scooped up the book and leaped back out of the light, clutching it to her chest. 

Before Ron had a chance to react, Vink appeared and stood between Valencia and everyone else, baring his teeth and growling at all of them. Hermione backed away slowly, and Ginny ducked behind Lupin, who seemed to be the only one not frightened by the sight of the large wolf only a few feet from them. 

"_Cover that window!_" Valencia commanded. Her face looked even paler than it had moments ago. She was pacing back and forth in the darkness, still holding the book protectively. "Shut the curtains! _Now!_" she said with such sharpness that even Harry was prepared to do as she said. 

Ron quickly pulled the curtains back across the window, dropping the room back into the gentle candle-lit darkness. Valencia pulled her wand and with a flick a heavy black shroud dropped from the ceiling completely covering the entire window a second time. 

She walked forward to place the book on the table, but walked away almost immediately and continued pacing about near the table. She glared at Ron threateningly as she took in long deep breaths. "Do not _ever_ open those curtains again," she snapped. "If Remus would not have been here—" 

"Relax, Valencia," Lupin said calmingly. "The book is fine. It was only an instant. The charms should have protected it for—" 

"There are no charms!" she shouted. "They've all worn off! Who would you trust to recast them? Who would trust _anyone_ to recast them?" She shook her head and let out a long sigh. Harry could still hear her whispering to herself: "Irresponsible... has no idea of the danger... killed for less... stupid boy..." 

After another minute of silence, Valencia walked forward to tell Vink that everything was alright and that he should return to sleep. He relaxed, but he refused to leave. Instead, he stood in the middle of the aisle that led to the door and sat down. As everyone else returned to the table, Vink sat like an enormous furry statue, keeping silent guard over his mistress. 

Harry carefully walked back to the table. He kept watch on Vink in case he might suddenly decide that Harry was also a threat to Valencia, but the wolf refused to take its eyes off Ron. Accepting this for the moment, Harry returned to his previous position. This time he had more room to view the book. Everyone had returned to their seats, and not even Lupin was very eager to crowd Valencia as she opened the book and returned to the correct page. She continued turning the pages as before, but Harry noticed that even she had to lean closer to read the text. 

"Is it, er... damaged?" Ron asked hesitantly. "I swear I didn't—" 

"It is damaged," Valencia reported, "but if your actions had any affect, they are not noticeable. The darkening you see has come from many separate exposures. On exposure to light, most ink will fade where the parchment will not. The charms on this book operate differently. Sunlight will slowly break down the charms until the pages are as black as the ink in the script. Simply opening the book will slowly darken them, and thus we have to assume that this section of the book has been very popular, and the pages are darkening still." 

She was right. As she turned the pages, they got slowly darker, until the parchment became a rich, chocolate brown. Valencia stood up with a sigh and summoned a pair of candles. She set them on either side of book and lit them with her wand. 

"Wait," Ron said, "is that safe?" 

Valencia glared at him. "Of course." She stretched an arm toward one of the candles and held the palm of her hand directly over the flame of the candle. She stared at Ron as she held her hand completely still for a moment. "These are cold-flame candles, Mr. Weasley," she finally said. "They could not even melt the winter snow." 

She returned to the book and Harry inched closer to read over her shoulder. She turned a few more pages, calling out the headings to see if they were worth exploring. They stopped for a moment at a brief essay on the Killing Curse, but found nothing of interest. Valencia skipped past Inferi and Dementors, but stopped at the next page, which was just slightly darker than the one before. Harry stared at the title: 

_Death Gates_

Valencia read it aloud for everyone to hear. Lupin simply stared back at her. Ron and Hermione exchanged confused looks. Ginny looked confused as well, but her eyes seemed to be scanning the room, looking for something. 

"Is this what you were interested in, Ginny?" 

Harry quickly stepped toward Ginny and tapped her shoulder insistently. Ginny answered immediately: "Yes! That's it." 

Valencia leaned close to the pages. "These pages are even darker than the others. It's hard to believe that this would be so much more interesting than Dementors. It's almost as if..." Her voice trailed off for a moment while she glanced at Ginny. A moment later, she began speaking again, but never finished her previous statement. "Well, let's just see what we find. I have a feeling Ginny is right." 

She began reading the text in a soft, almost musical voice. For the most part it was terribly boring. It spent more time listing the things that weren't known than discussing the things that were known. A very detailed description was included, and it was more than enough to convince everyone that the Arch and Veil in the Department of Mysteries was indeed one of the Death Gates the chapter was referring to. 

This was further reinforced by the description of a single Death Gate in Europe which had been damaged. Harry noticed Lupin's suspicious glance as he caught the reactions of Ron, Hermione, and Ginny to that particular passage. A number of other locations were given for known Gates, including London. Valencia continued reading, but it seemed like the pages were going to say very little. 

"Is that all is says?" Ginny asked after yet another page doing little more than listing events which were linked to one of the locations. 

"I don't know," Valencia admitted as she skipped forward. "None of this seems worth reading, and even less worth banishment from a library. Your father said the library in Kiev had been his last stop. Maybe the topic is correct, but he had no more luck than we are having." 

"I was rather expecting something more suitable for research," Lupin commented. "Even though this might be appropriate for a history text, I'd have to think that someone who had been to as many libraries as he had would have been certain of his success before requesting a book like this." 

"Maybe he was looking for another one of these things," suggested Ron. "Maybe he needed more than one, or maybe there was something wrong with the one in London." 

"It appears to work just fine, now," commented Lupin. 

A thought appeared in Harry's mind: _Maybe he was looking for one that wasn't working well._

Was that it? Was he looking for the Veil in Romania? Grigore had said that it was damaged and it made it easier to use. How would that explain what happened? Fulbright couldn't have been injured in Romania. Could he? Would the Brotherhood have been there? Wouldn't they have stopped him? 

_What if they didn't?_ Harry asked himself. The answer was quite simple. They would have hunted him down and killed him. Then they would have killed anyone he had talked with. 

They would have killed them all. 

It was starting to make sense. Winston Fulbright had learned something he wasn't supposed to. He had been researching the Veil, and the Brotherhood had found out. They arranged for everyone who might have heard about his research to be killed. Why had they waited to kill Fulbright? Why not just kill him the first night in St. Mungo's? 

"Finally!" Valencia called out, "some real information." Harry awoke from his thoughts to listen to her as she read from the book: 

_The myths and mysteries behind the Death Gates are nearly as old as the Gates themselves. As a result of their age and unknown origin, many of the oldest cults of wizards worshiped them as a source of immeasurable power. Others have feared them as a manifestation of unstoppable destruction. It is possible that both perceptions are correct._

_It has been suggested that it is not the stone arches or their ethereal cloth veils which hold the power of the Death Gates. Many of the wise have suggested that they may simply be constructions which channel and control the power of a more dangerous phenomena. This view is still not widely accepted due to its failure to explain why the makers of these constructions would not create a more permanent barrier. They insist instead that the Gates were created as a method to gather and harvest magical power from the world of the dead. This has convinced many wizards to attempt to harness this power._

_Starting in 1139, a group of wizards spent over two hundred years secretly researching an unidentified Death Gate. After three generations of wizards working on the Gate, the research reportedly ended suddenly with the disappearance of every one of the wizards. Later investigation discovered journal entries and illustrations of a Death Gate. Though the authenticity of these items is doubtful, it has not stopped later wizards from attempting to duplicate their efforts._

"If the myths are to be believed, there is a spell or incantation to unlock or somehow open the Gates. Once opened, they would grant immortality to the wizard who discovered the secret. Other myths claim that the gift is unimaginable wealth, and others say the wizard would simply receive immense magical power. An incantation was found in the journal supposedly used by the group who nearly succeeded in unlocking the gates. It consisted of five—" 

Valencia paused and looked closer at the page. "Hold on," she mumbled as she reached to tip a candle closer to the page. "I'm afraid I can't really read the next few words. The parchment is too dark, but the line seems to end with: _—doesn't seem to follow any known patterns of—_" She paused to move to the top of the next page, but didn't continue reading. Instead she picked up the book to get a better view. 

"No, this can't be right," she said. 

"What is it?" Lupin asked her. "What does it say?" 

"The next page starts with: _of other unreported Death Gates should be regarded with skepticism._ It then goes on to explain why they believe that all of the Death Gates have been found and that many of them are simply being hidden because of their history." 

Hermione stared up at her with a bewildered expression. "That doesn't make any sense." 

"It does actually," Valencia replied bitterly. She dropped the book on the table sending an echoing _thump_ through the room and a plume of dust into the air. She leaned over the book, and pressed the pages down on either side of the spine. "A page has been torn from the binding," she announced, "the most important page in the book, it would seem." 

Ron let out a disappointed sigh. "Another dead end, then."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Sorry for the delay. I've been writing, just slower over the summer. My beta and I have busier summers so it got back-logged a little. There should be three chapters coming up shortly. Look for the next one very soon. 


	8. The Darkened Corridor

_This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

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**CHAPTER 8**

**The Darkened Corridor**

* * *

Harry collapsed into the wooden chair against the wall. Everyone else around the table had the same defeated expression. Perhaps they had been too lucky. After finding so much in such a short period of time, they should have known that they would have to fail sooner or later. 

Valencia was still staring at the few remaining scraps of parchment still poking out of the binding. "It doesn't make any sense," she said in a controlled tone. "The charms won't work if the page is torn out of the book. It will just return to the runes it was originally written in. I don't think anyone has been able to read them for centuries."

"Maybe he'd copied down the page before he ripped it out," suggested Hermione.

Valencia just shook her head. "Then why would he rip the page out? It would be useless to him!"

"Maybe he didn't want anyone else to read it," Ron offered.

"Maybe someone else didn't want anyone to find what he did," countered Ginny.

Both possibilities seemed equally likely, and both left them with very little to work with. They'd found what they were looking for, but they were missing the most important piece.

"What do you think was on that page?" Lupin asked, sounding much more hopeful than Harry felt. "A description of a spell? An incantation?"

"It was pretty clear, I thought," Ron replied. "It was about to give us clues on how to unlock those gates."

"But how does that help us?" Lupin continued. "Certainly we don't believe that Miss Franklin tried to do that. Whatever happened to Winston Fulbright happened at the Ministry. Miraphora Franklin was attacked here, at Hogwarts. I admit they sound too similar not to have similar causes, but I cannot see the connection, or what part the Veil might play."

Hermione sat back in her chair. "Perhaps Fulbright wasn't working alone," she suggested. "What if he was just the researcher, while someone else remained in London, working with whatever information he sent back?"

"How does that change the situation?" Lupin asked, sounding more curious.

"Well, it's dark magic, isn't it?" she began. "The report from St. Mungo's said they thought it was poisoning. The only real difference between the symptoms of Fulbright and Miraphora is how quickly it spread in Miraphora. If it was some form of a Poisoning Curse, it must have hit her in the forehead, where Fulbright was only hit in the finger."

She began talking faster, as though she could sense she'd stumbled onto something important. "Why would you aim a curse at someone's finger?" she asked as though she already had an answer. Before anyone could give her one, she offered her own: "When you draw a bath, you don't test it by jumping in. You just dip your toe or splash at it with your hand. Whatever happened to Fulbright, it was just a test. They didn't know what would happen, but that wasn't the case with Miraphora."

"So what were they testing?" Ron asked, trying to hide his own curiosity behind a mask of frustration.

"A sacrifice," Hermione said triumphantly. "Dark magic always has a price. Back in 1842, they didn't really know what the sacrifice would be, so they were hesitant. When they found out, they stopped—"

"—Or someone stopped them," Ginny interjected.

"—Right," agreed Hermione. "Now someone is trying again, but they're not afraid of the consequences. They just want what the Veil can give them and it's easier to hide the sacrifices as the attacks of an unknown dark wizard than have to explain the disappearances of Ministry employees."

Lupin's eyes opened a little wider. "So you think it's someone within the Ministry?"

Hermione nodded. "We've all known about it for months. No one is allowed to enter the Death Room without written orders. Only three wizards are even allowed to guard it, and they've gone through six of those already. They keep requesting for transfers because they say they can hear voices coming from the Veil, and they keep getting louder. Only one person is allowed to enter that room whenever they like: Auguste Reynard."

Harry jumped out of his chair and nearly shouted with happiness. If he hadn't been hiding under his Indivisibility Cloak, he would have run across the room and kissed her.

Lupin's reaction was a little more restrained. His lips tightened as he tried not to frown. "Hermione, if you are correct, this will be more difficult than you might realize. You, in particular, would be put in a very dangerous position."

"If it's true, then I'm already in a very dangerous position," she replied.

"That's right," he said. "We will need to find out as much as we can about what the Department of Mysteries is doing. Do you have any idea what Reynard would want from the Veil?"

"He's a very clever wizard," she said. "He used to be an Auror. He was ambushed by a pair of Death Eaters one night and spent a year in St. Mungo's. He quit as soon as they let him out and transferred to the Department of Mysteries. He never got over his fear of death. If he knew of a way, he would pay any price for immortality."

"Then he would be a fool," Valencia remarked sharply. "History is littered with the corpses of the immortal," she said, speaking the final word with obvious distaste. Harry caught her giving him a quick glance. "Surely all of you should know this. Immortality is a false goal. It is unattainable and fruitless. Wizards have destroyed their lives in their quests for it, only to learn that it grants nothing."

"Nothing?" Ron replied. "I'd hardly call defeating death _nothing_. McGonagall said Lord Voldemort was one of the best students in Hogwarts' history. He didn't seem to think it was a waste of time. He turned into the most powerful dark wizard the world had seen."

"He became the most powerful dark wizard of this age, perhaps," Valencia corrected. "He paid a horrible price for his immortality, but what did it get him? Where is he now?"

The room got oddly quiet as everyone turned to look at Valencia. She looked somewhat tense, as though she was still restraining her earlier anger. "Did you not notice the essay on horcruxes in this very book?" she continued, jabbing a finger at the ancient tome. "He only knew of them because others had gone ahead of him. I hope you did not assume he was the first. Where are the others? Where are the stories of their kingdoms and victories?"

The room remained silent aside from a soft snort from Vink as he twitched at his post.

"They are dead," Valencia answered for them. "Their stories are nothing more than footnotes in the legends of truly great wizards. The desire for immortality is nothing more than vanity and cowardice. It is self-serving, forcing those who achieve it to fear death even more."

"So, immortality is worthless?" Ron asked. "Hundreds of years of power and riches mean nothing to you?"

"You are not listening," she said in a calmer voice. "Do not confuse immortality with wealth, or knowledge, or wisdom, or power. Immortality is only one of the paths to these things, and it does not grant them easily or quickly. The immortality of Auguste Reynard —in the present or the future— is nothing for us to fear."

"What should we fear, then?" Hermione asked with a confused look on her face.

"Power," Valencia replied slowly. "Lord Voldemort was not as terrible as he was because of his immortality. It was his knowledge and the power he uncovered with it which made him such a threat to the world. Do not forget our purpose here. Whatever happened to Miss Franklin is something very few wizards could possibly know, and something more powerful than every cure or counter-curse we know. These are not the actions of a weak, cowardly wizard."

"What are you saying?" Lupin asked. "You don't think Reynard is involved?"

"No, I am saying that if he is the one behind this, he is not the frightened wizard Miss Granger portrayed him to be," she announced. "Whoever did this is a powerfully dark warlock who executed a bold attack in the middle of a well-guarded school.

"Whoever it is, they are clever. A clever wizard will want power, not immortality. The desire for power, like immortality, is also self serving. However, unlike immortality, it makes a wizard stronger not weaker. Immortality simply becomes one step in an unending quest for domination."

"So this is how it starts," Lupin commented as he leaned back in his chair. "I can only imagine the situation was similarly confusing when Lord Voldemort was ascending to power. Now we have a new Dark Lord, but he's being secretive. That means he's still vulnerable. We just need to figure out where."

An uncomfortable hush fell over the room. Even Harry stood in a contemplative silence. For a year he had been told that a new Dark Lord was coming. Having Lupin confirm it so bluntly was still something of a shock to him. Perhaps this was simply the way the world was. There would always be some wizard trying to raise himself up over everyone else. Still, a nagging voice in the back of his head told him that there was something more to this particular situation.

The silence was broken suddenly by a rumbling growl from Vink. He had stood up and turned to face the library door with his teeth bared and the hairs on the back of his neck bristling in anger. Lupin and Ron stood up almost simultaneously. Both had already drawn their wands.

"What is it Vink?" Valencia hissed. There was a hint of fear in her voice.

Vink turned to look back at her for an instant. He let out a quick yelping howl and then turned back to the door and continued growling. Lupin walked around the table quickly and pointed his wand at the door. Ron was close behind him, forcing Harry to step back to avoid being bowled over.

"Relax, Remus," Valencia called out. "It's just one of the Aurors."

"Why is he afraid of the Aurors?" Ginny asked.

"He's not afraid of them," Valencia replied, looking as though the question had been some veiled insult. "He doesn't any of trust them," she explained, "and some of them even less others." Harry noted a faint scowl on her face as she stood up and walked over behind Vink.

As if on cue, a metallic _click_ echoed through the library followed by the faint metallic grinding of the door's iron hinges opening slowly. Harry leaned around the corner to see who their visitor was. If Vink could be trusted, he might be identifying the Auror who was passing information to Reynard.

The door opened wider, and Vink stopped growling immediately. Harry turned to see what had happened and found Valencia gently patting the wolf's head. She looked up and a smile spread across her face.

"Good morning, Nymphadora," she said cheerily.

"Good afternoon, Madam Desmoda," Tonks replied icily.

"No need to be so formal, Nymphadora. There are no students here. You may call me Valencia. Friends should not address each other as though charging each other with crimes."

Tonks stared back at her. "You're right, Madam Desmoda, they shouldn't."

Another ominous silence filled the room. For a moment, Harry was certain that Tonks was about to draw her wand and attack Valencia, but they simply stood in place glaring at each other. Finally Lupin strode forward, breaking the tension.

"Hello, Tonks, I wasn't expecting you," he said as he leaned forward to kiss her lightly on the cheek. Her expression barely changed, but Harry heard an annoyed sigh from Valencia as she turned to walk back to the table.

"I wasn't planning on being here," Tonks replied. "I put in an eight hour shift, and then four more hours of covering for Rife and Rodgers while they hunted Acromantulas with Justinian. Then, before I could even make it back to the castle, McGonagall gave me a list of errands."

"Ah, sorry to hear about that," Lupin said sympathetically. "Unless you need to run off, you might want to sit down for a moment and rest. We've had surprisingly good luck this morning. You'll want to hear what we've found. Though, I suppose we really should call the Headmistress, as well."

"Too late," Tonks replied tiredly as she closed the door and waited to hear it lock again. "That's why I'm here," she continued. "She just left Hogwarts. Said she had some sort of business to attend to. She won't be back until late tonight. She's put you in charge of the school while she's out."

Lupin blinked a couple times. "Well, I— I suppose... I suppose that makes sense." He took a moment to recover, then turned back to the violet-haired Tonks. "Do you have a few minutes? You really should hear what we've found."

Tonks agreed with only a slight frown. Everyone returned to the table where _A History of Magic_ was still lying. Tonks took the wooden chair Harry had been using and slid it next to Lupin's larger chair. Harry almost expected Valencia to summon up a replacement, but she was not paying any attention to him anymore. She had enlarged her cushioned chair into a small sofa, giving Vink enough room to lie down next to her.

Lupin began relating the story of their search from the very beginning, and as he spoke, Valencia sat peacefully next to Vink gently stroking his neck and back. There was something slightly off about her behavior. She seemed suddenly detached and passive. Vink was also behaving differently. His eyes shifted about the room slowly, as though he were on the edge of sleep. If the sight of his teeth was not so vivid in Harry's memory, he might have almost assumed he was nothing more than a large, friendly dog.

Lupin continued his explanation, but he was seemed to be distracted by Vink and Valencia. Every so often, the story would pause or his voice would seem to skip a bit between words. As he began telling her about the information Arthur had found for them, Harry heard a short muffled howl from the sofa. Vink had rolled over and Valencia was playfully rubbing his chest.

"Do you mind?" snapped Tonks.

Valencia froze and looked to up to blink at Tonks as though she had forgotten anyone else was in the room. "Do I mind? No, not at all. I've already all of—" She stopped suddenly. "Oh! Noise. Of course. I'm sorry." She leaned down and whispered something into the wolf's ear and he immediately rolled over to lay on his stomach in a nearly comical, stiffly alert pose. Valencia continued running her hand along his neck and back just as quickly, and within seconds she had returned to her previous state of oblivion.

Tonks rolled her eyes and Lupin frowned before continuing his explanation. Somehow, though Vink remained completely silent, Valencia managed to become even more distracting than she had been before Tonks's interruption. Lupin shifted in his chair to face Tonks more directly. Tonks, however, was forced to try and ignore the sight of Valencia massaging the silvery fur which ran from the top of Vink's head and down his spine.

Vink's once statuesque pose was now quite a bit more relaxed. His eyes were no longer alert but gazing off toward nothing in particular, and his mouth was opened, allowing his tongue to hang limply in his jaws.

Ron, Hermione and Ginny seemed to be watching the scene with bemused concern. Lupin was obviously distracted and Tonks was visibly upset, yet neither of them seemed to want to give up on the pretense that Lupin was relating the results of their research. His explanation had sped up noticeably, and he quickly summarized the information they had found from the reports published by St. Mungo's and continued immediately onto the large book sitting on the table in front of them. Harry noticed he completely skipped all mention of where it came from and how they had obtained it.

Just as Lupin began telling Tonks about the chapter on Death Gates, a low growl of appreciation rumbled from Vink's throat. Lupin paused only to swallow and catch his breath, but Tonks glared at Valencia with narrowed eyes. It served little purpose. Valencia had not looked up at all since her previous apology. She whispered in Vink's ear again and the low growl disappeared.

Ginny and Hermione were whispering to each other. Harry didn't have to hear what they were saying to guess the topic of their private conversation. It had been obvious from the first moment Tonks had mentioned Valencia that the two of them did not get along, and seeing them together made it all the more understandable, even if the true cause was less easy to spot.

Lupin finished by explaining the missing page and their suspicions about where it might be and what information it might have had on it. Tonks appeared to be paying attention to him, but she failed to react at all when he suggested that the rest of the Aurors could not be trusted due to their possible connections with Reynard. She had simply nodded as though he had been sharing some childhood story.

"Do you remember anything I just told you?" Lupin asked with a frown.

"Yes, of course I—" Tonks began to say, but interrupted herself to rub her eyes and let out a long sigh. "No," she corrected herself. "No, I'm afraid I don't remember much of it at all. I'm afraid I was quite distracted." She leaned around Lupin to stare directly at Valencia.

"Pardon me, could you stop petting your dog?" she said sourly.

Vink let out a short growl, but Valencia silenced it with a quick caress of his muzzle. "Vink is not a dog," she said firmly but politely. "He is a dire wolf, an exceedingly rare breed, and very well behaved, which is even rarer."

"He certainly is very obedient," Tonks said, "when you want him to be."

Valencia returned a patronizing smile. "I must forgive you for that. You are a witch of action, not learning. One cannot expect you to understand the personality of a wolf. They are not _obedient_. They are intelligent, perceptive and loyal. We trust each other. Eventually you will learn that all good relationships are built upon trust."

"I'm well aware of—"

"Excellent," Valencia interrupted, "then you shouldn't have any trouble understanding why we belong together." She looked down at Vink, and he turned his head to look back at her. "I understand wolves," she said with a smile. "I grew up with one. He was a Russian wolf named Voraz. He was like a brother to me. Since then I have always enjoyed the company of wolves. They are so much more caring and trustworthy than people. Vink protects me, and I see that he has a happier life than he would have as some trophy pet in America."

"That's wonderful," groaned Tonks, "but does he really need to be here now? Couldn't he just run off with a bone somewhere? Why not have him chase Mrs. Norris or something else constructive?"

Valencia recoiled in offense. "Is that all you see him as? Some mindless animal who cannot overcome his most primitive instincts when needed? He is a handsome, intelligent creature. I look at him and see a kind companion. You see him as some sort of wild beast."

Tonks shot out of her chair, her face covered in blotches of color. "That's not what I said!" she shouted. "You know very well what— How dare— If I ever find out—" Tonks stuttered, unable to even start another sentence. Lupin stood up quickly and began whispering something in her ear which didn't seem to calm her down any.

"I can see what you're trying to do," growled Tonks. "If you think—"

"All I am doing is spending time with a close friend," Valencia interrupted again. She blinked innocently and rubbed the top of Vink's head. "You seem really tense. I suppose it's all those long days of guard duty. You barely have any time outside of your work and the few hours of sleep you get. Pity."

Tonks pulled free of Lupin and stalked over to Valencia. In seconds her expression became troublingly serene. "You're just spending time with a friend, are you? Well, I'm here on business. If you want to spend time with your friend, maybe the two of you should go outside."

Valencia smiled brightly. "It is tempting," she said in a cheerful voice. "We got a brief glimpse of a beautiful morning earlier. However, I'm afraid I couldn't leave that book lying there," she said, nodding toward the ancient tome on the table. "It's worth more than any of our lives —even Vink's," she added. Vink's brows furrowed with concern and she smiled and patted him on the neck. "It wouldn't matter," she added lightly, "he doesn't want to go outside today."

"Oh?" Tonks asked. "And how do you know that?"

"I told you. I understand wolves. I know what they like and can tell what they want. I suppose when you've spent as much time around them as I have, you begin to figure these things out. I know how to make him happy. Last night was a long night. Right now he wants to relax." As if agreeing with her, Vink laid his head on her knees and closed his eyes.

"I think it's time for me to go," Tonks announced. She gave Valencia one last withering glare before turning around stiffly to stare at Ron, Hermione and Ginny. "The Headmistress wanted me to speak with the three of you," she said in a strained voice. Lupin walked over to her side, but she stopped him with a scowl.

"While she understands that she cannot force this decision upon you, she suggests that the three of you find somewhere else to sleep. The Aurors have all been instructed to allow you to enter and leave Hogwarts whenever you like, and you will always be welcome for any meal. However, for the time being, she is concerned that your presence here might be... disruptive. She hopes this doesn't cause too much trouble. If needed, the _Three Broomsticks_ has offered a discount on its normal rates."

Hermione was the first to speak. "Well, er... No. No, we should be fine. I have a flat above Diagon Alley, and I'm sure Ron's parents wouldn't have a problem if he and Ginny stayed there." Ginny's face fell into disgusted frown.

"When are we supposed to leave?" Ron asked.

"As soon as Ginny and Hermione have finished their business for the day," Tonks answered mechanically.

"Oh, right," Ron said with a nod. "I guess that would be alright as long as—"

"Fine then," Tonks said sharply. Without looking back she turned and stomped off for the door.

Lupin followed her, calling out in an attempt to stop her before she left. Tonks completely ignored him, and Harry heard the door to the library open, then slam shut a second later. Lupin spun around and gave Valencia a disapproving glare.

"We talked about this," he said heavily.

"About what?" Valencia asked as she stared back at him with a confused expression.

Lupin turned much as Tonks had, and quickly walked to the door. Harry heard the echoes of running boots and Lupin's voice calling out to Tonks before the door even closed. Valencia hadn't reacted to any of this. She was now slowly running her hand along Vink's back and sides, smoothing his thick fur.

"Would you like to pet him?" she asked Harry's friends in a dreamy voice. "His fur is really quite soft."

Ginny stared down at her strangely. "No, thanks," she replied. "I think it's time for us to go. We should really pack our things. Perhaps we'll be back later."

* * *

Ginny and Hermione managed to find enough tasks and questions to ask to delay their departure from Hogwarts long enough to allow Ron to catch an early dinner before they left the castle. They stopped by the kitchens on their way out to stuff a small bag with extra food for Harry. After all they'd learned that day, she wanted to be able to discuss it without the distraction of trying not to burn whatever food they could scrape together for Harry. 

They returned to their rooms only briefly. Hermione and a very reluctant Ron helped Ginny scour her room for any evidence that Harry had been there. Harry seemed both distracted and impatient during the process, and seemed strangely eager to leave.

Ginny tried talking to him about it but he simply brushed her off. While it seemed logical to say that it was hardly the best time to discuss such things, she couldn't help but think that perhaps there wouldn't be a better time to discuss it.

Once Hermione was satisfied that no one would run across one of Harry's discarded socks, the four of them slipped out of the room. Ginny habitually remained behind to keep the door open long enough for Harry to follow them. They made their way back to the main corridor and began climbing down the stairs to the main door.

After only a few minutes, they started to notice more students walking about the corridors. Pairs and trios of students became streams of well-fed, chattering students making their way from the Great Hall various parts of the castle. There were only two more flights of stairs to go, but Ginny's paranoia was becoming more insistent.

"We should stop," she hissed to Ron and Hermione. "There are too many students."

"Oh, and that won't be suspicious at all," Ron whispered back at her. "I don't think any of us look old enough that we'd need a breather just to walk down to the Entrance Hall. Maybe we could all conjure books."

Ginny narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm serious Ron. If we lose him—"

"Don't worry about me," said a disembodied voice behind Ginny. "I hid from the Brotherhood for a year. I can handle this lot. Just pretend I'm not here and I promise I'll see you later."

Ginny agreed, and with a sigh, she followed Ron and Hermione down the rest of the stairs. By the time they reached the Entrance Hall, most of the students had left the Great Hall and the hall was nearly empty. The three of them walked to the main door, where they found Remus Lupin waiting for them.

"It didn't seem right that you just leave without anyone to send you off," he said with a smile. "Tonks wanted to be here, too, but she's, er... sleeping. She had a very tiring day. Thank you for all of your help. I hope to see you tomorrow so we can spend more time discussing what we should do about what we found."

The three of them agreed and thanked him as he opened the main door for them. He waved goodbye to them as they walked across the courtyard, then firmly closed the door. Ginny caught a brief glimmer as if someone had placed a quick charm on the entire door.

"So what's this all about?" Ron hissed once they had left the courtyard. "We help them research and this is our thanks? Did either of you see the door after we left? I think Lupin charmed it."

"I saw it, too," Ginny said.

"It's like they're afraid of us," Ron said in a louder voice. "Like they think we—"

"Not here, Ronald," snapped Hermione. "We can talk about it later."

"Alight, what about Tonks and Valencia?" Ron asked. "Can we talk about that? Or is that a Ministry secret as well?"

Hermione glared at him. "No, though I suspect Lupin wishes it were."

"So you think it has something to do with Lupin?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Of course it does, Ron."

"Well?" he prompted. "What did I miss this time?"

Hermione didn't take her eyes off the path as she responded. "Tonks suspects that Lupin and Valencia have been—" She paused for a moment, then tried explaining it a different way. "She thinks that Lupin and Valencia's relationship is becoming more personal than professional."

"Which it isn't," Ginny interjected. "He's not that kind of wizard," she said with certainty.

"Well, I can see how she might be worried," Ron said. "Did you take a look at Valencia? She's a lot easier to look at than Madam Pince. Tonks is great, but what wizard wouldn't want a witch like Valencia beside him?"

Hermione stopped abruptly to glare at Ron. "Oh, is that right? All you care about is finding the most attractive witch you can?"

"Of course not!" Ron said defensively. "That's why I'm with you."

Hermione's mouth dropped open. For a moment she stood in awed silence. Even Ginny couldn't believe how shockingly bad his comment sounded. Hermione shook her head and mumbled something to herself as she spun around and continued down the path toward the main gate.

"That's not what I meant!" Ron called out as he followed her. "You can be really beautiful when you want to!" This only got an annoyed huff from Hermione. Ginny suppressed a laugh and jogged to catch up to them.

"Come on, Hermione, you know I love you," Ron announced. Hermione slowed to a stop. Even Ginny stopped where she was. This was the first time she'd ever heard her brother use the word _love_ when speaking to Hermione. It didn't seem to be the first time for Hermione however.

"Yes, I know," she replied. "You're just not very good at thinking about what you're saying."

Ron shrugged. "I know."

Hermione shook her head and turned to continue walking down the path. "You know, you're lucky I knew we're being followed by Aurors right now, or you would have been having more trouble walking than you are now." Ginny noted a hint of a smile on her face.

"That's a bit unfair," Ron said in a calmer voice. He, too, was fighting the urge to laugh at himself. "I'm not blind you know. After that match we won, there were quite a few attractive witches who showed up, but I went back to your flat just as soon as I could."

"Yes, I'm overwhelmed with flattery," Hermione replied, now unable to hide her smile.

Ron beamed. "You should be. Anyway, Ginny's right."

"I am?" Ginny asked, confused about how she'd been pulled into the conversation.

"Lupin would have to be daft to pick Valencia over Tonks," he declared. "Tonks is a Metamorphmagus. There are only three of them in all of Britain —and one of them is an old bloke from Wales. The other two, well, they should be every wizard's dream. They can look however they want."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, but the point would be that they shouldn't have to change what they look like."

"Yeah, of course," he agreed, "but it's the best of both worlds, isn't it? If Lupin thought Valencia was attractive, Tonks could just make herself look like her. The next day, she could have blonde hair, or she could make herself look like the new chaser for the Tornados. If she wanted she could even look like you or—"

"Shut up, Ron," groaned Hermione. "I don't want to even think about trying to explain to you how repulsive that is."

"Er, right," responded Ron.

Hermione shook her head silently and continued walking toward the main gate. It was now close enough that they could recognize the two Aurors standing guard at either side of it. It was Chatham and Zoe Elderbridge. As they approached, they got a much less friendly farewell than Lupin had given them.

"Leaving for the day, then?" Chatham asked them stiffly. "No return visits planned for tonight?"

"No," Hermione answered slowly

"Good," he grunted. "We'll be locking the gates."

Hermione stopped just before passing through the gate. "I was told we would be able to enter Hogwarts whenever we liked."

"You are."

"But not tonight?"

"Of course not," he answered gruffly.

"Why not?" Hermione asked him. Her voice was sharp and commanding.

"It'll do you no good to try and push me around," he said with an equal amount of authority. "Working for Reynard might get you what you want in the Ministry, but around here we're a little more suspicious. You said you didn't have any business here, and you best keep it that way until tomorrow morning."

"If something happens—"

Chatham began speaking over her. "If anything happens it will be best if the three of you can prove you're not in that castle. Odd things have been happening here for some time, and they've only gotten worse since you came here. We're going to figure out why, so either you tell us what's causing it or nose out and let us do our jobs."

The three of them tossed uncertain glances at each other. There was really nothing they could do or say. In the end, there was nothing they really needed to do.

"I'll be talking to the Headmistress about this," Hermione grumbled.

"You're more than welcome to do that," Chatham replied politely. "She will be returning to the castle tomorrow morning. I'm certain she would be pleased to have you stop in for breakfast."

Reluctantly, the three of them stepped through the gates and continued down the path. Ginny cautiously watched behind her, looking for any sign that the Aurors might have noticed Harry walking behind them. Of course, it was much more likely that he had already slipped through the gates while they were arguing with the Aurors.

They walked silently up the first hill. Hermione appeared to be deep in thought. They finally reached the crest of the hill and began walking into the first valley. Once they were out of sight of the gate, Hermione paused and looked back over her shoulder.

"Now they're suspicious of us," she said disgustedly.

"So that's why McGonagall suggested we leave," Ron added. "What do they think we did? They _asked_ us to come. We didn't even know anything happened!"

"They're just frightened," Ginny said, trying to stay positive. "They don't know what's going on and a few extra strangers isn't helping."

"I think there was only _one_ stranger who wasn't helping," Hermione replied. She turned to face the emptiness behind them. "Now do you see why I said you should have stayed in your room?"

There was no response.

"Even after everything we found this morning, they're still convinced that you must be playing some part in it, Harry. They're going to waste valuable time trying to figure out why your ghost is so interested in that girl or why you're helping Reynard or who knows what else. We don't have time for that, Harry! That girl needs help _now_."

When Harry still didn't respond, Hermione scowled and started circling Ron and Ginny. "What's the matter, Harry?" she asked. "Not so defensive anymore? You never were the type to accept your mistakes silently. No one can see you now. Either speak up or we'll stop by the _Three Broomsticks_ for a drink and leave you to..."

Hermione froze and turned to look at the tips of the castle towers which still peeked over the top of the hill.

"Bloody hell!" she shouted.

"What is it?" Ginny asked.

Hermione held her arms out to her sides. "Where is Harry?" she asked in a soft voice. "We heard him on the stairs. Did anyone hear him at the door with Lupin? Or at the gate?"

A burst of panic struck Ginny. She looked around in futility. If Harry were wearing his cloak, he could be standing inches from her without her knowing. "This better not be a joke, Harry Potter!" she called out. She already knew it wasn't, though. It felt wrong. Something had felt wrong ever since they left the castle.

"There was plenty of time for him to get out of the main door," Ginny said frantically. "He never had any problem with that before, and he had a whole minute to get past the main gate. How could he—"

"I don't think it was a mistake, Ginny," Hermione said bitterly.

"You mean, he meant to stay behind?" Ron asked. "Why? He knew Ginny was leaving. It's not like he needs a place to sleep."

Hermione shook her head and stared back toward the castle. "No, he's looking for something he can only find in Hogwarts."

Ron turned to look back as well. "What is it?"

"I don't know," she answered. "I'm not sure if he does either."

"We have to go back," Ginny pleaded. "If they search the castle—"

"We can't go back," Hermione told her flatly. "You heard the Aurors. They'll know something is up. It will only cause more problems. Chatham was right. If they find anything, it will be better if we're not part of it."

Ginny glared at Hermione. "We're just going to leave him? We have to find some way to warn him."

"And how are we supposed to do that?" Hermione replied. "Even though they're looking for a ghost, they're still going to notice something as mundane as an owl or Ministry memo flying down the corridors." She frowned and turned away. "There's only one thing we can do now," she said.

Ginny ran over to look her in the eyes. "What? What can we do?"

"Go home," Hermione said softly. "We'll want to get a good night's sleep."

"And how is that going to help?" Ron asked.

"The first boat to Azkaban leaves at dawn," Hermione replied. "Even without the Dementors, it's a dreary place. It's easier to stay cheerful in the early morning."

"Why are we going to Azkaban?" Ron asked.

Hermione let out a defeated sigh. "Unless I'm wrong, that's where we'll find Harry."

* * *

Ginny's return to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was quite a bit less comforting than she would have hoped. She had been secretly hoping that they had all been wrong and that Harry had returned much faster than they had. Instead, they found the old house almost empty and almost exactly how they left it. The only signs of change were the remnants of the toast Hermione had made the morning they left and a trail of crumbs leading off toward the cellar where Kreacher spent most of his time. 

They sat for some time in the parlor near the kitchen. Ginny couldn't help but feel worried at the thought of Harry being captured by the Aurors. What would they do with him? They couldn't really throw him in Azkaban, could they? He hadn't done anything wrong.

Almost unwillingly, she remembered something Hermione had told her earlier that summer. Reynard had threatened to put her in Azkaban for simply talking to Ginny. Though Harry had meant well, he _had_ broken into the Department of Mysteries twice, and attacked Ministry wizards while doing it. If everyone was right about Reynard, it wouldn't matter if Harry hadn't done anything wrong.

Hermione was sitting nearby, looking upset and speaking only as much as required to keep Ron from thinking she had fallen asleep. Occasionally, when she thought Ginny couldn't see her, she would turn to watch her. Ginny tried to ask her if there was something on her mind, but Hermione always shook her head dismissively.

Though Ron was usually excellent at completely missing these things, the tension in the room had not escaped him this time. He sat near Hermione and continued to try to spark some form of conversation. When he failed to get them to talk about what they'd found in the Library or what they'd seen the day before, he tried to talk about the upcoming Quidditch World Cup. This got even less response than his previous attempts, so he decided to sit back in his chair with a sullen expression on his face.

"What is he looking for, Ginny?" Hermione said after a few minutes of silence.

"Why do you think I know?" she asked in response.

"Because there are a lot of things you know that you don't tell us," Hermione answered. "Harry left your room last night to look for something, but he didn't find it. It seems reasonable to think that was the reason he stayed behind."

Involuntarily, Ginny looked down at her chest where she could feel the smooth silver of the amulet under her robes. Hermione caught the reaction and sat up in her chair.

There really wasn't any reason to hide it from them. She couldn't even remember why she hadn't told them about it earlier. There really wasn't any reason for it to be a secret, and yet, she found herself reluctant to reveal it now. It couldn't have anything to do with what was happening. It was worthless. It didn't even have a purpose.

That was what Harry was trying to find.

Ginny conquered her reluctance and slowly pulled the amulet out for Ron and Hermione to see. As they inspected it suspiciously Ginny related the story of how she had been given it. Ron shook his head and Hermione frowned disapprovingly, but neither seemed in any mood to complain about her behavior.

"So you think Harry's looking for this?" Ron asked as he stared into the black gem in the center of the amulet.

"No, I think he's looking for explanation for what it is," Ginny replied. "He doesn't like it for some reason. I think he's just paranoid."

"He'd have to be a little more than paranoid," Hermione replied as she took the amulet from Ron. "He must think this has something to do with the attacks." She was holding it gingerly and prodding it with her wand. It sparked and jumped on its chain, but this didn't seem to surprise Hermione. "Where did he say he got it?"

"Some old tomb," Ginny answered. The sight of Hermione pointing her wand at it was starting to make Ginny nervous. It felt rather like watching someone juggle an expensive set of china. "He said he tried to figure out what it was but didn't find anything."

"Well, he seems like a good wizard, and from the sound of your story he's pretty useful in a tense situation, but I'm not sure I'd trust his ability to properly research an artifact like this," Hermione said. "If I had to guess, I'd say it was the result of dark magic and that requires a little more time than most good wizards would be willing to put into it."

"He said he spent a year searching for information about it," Ginny replied, though she no longer sounded convinced of the quality of research during that year.

"I doubt that," Ron commented. "Maybe it took him a year to give up. Researching trinkets doesn't really pay all that well and from the look of his clothes, I'd say he's not living off of some vault of gold in Gringott's. He probably hit a few shops and gave up when he couldn't get more than a couple Galleons from them."

Hermione was holding the amulet very close to her face. "There is something odd about this stone," she announced. "I know it has some sort of magic in it, but I can't seem to detect a single charm on it. Did Harry give you any idea why he wanted to know about it? If we could prove that he had some reason to be sneaking around Hogwarts it might make it a little harder for Reynard to have him thrown in Azkaban."

"And how are we supposed to do that before tomorrow morning?" Ron asked. "We're not going to find any useful books around here. Hogwarts is out of bounds for us tonight. They won't let you into the Department of Mysteries. Where else do you expect to go? The only place you'd have better luck would be one of the old magical item shops at Diagon Alley, but even if they were open this late, it's likely that Justinian's already visited them and found nothing."

Ginny stiffened in her chair. A sudden idea struck her. It was stupid. She knew that from the moment it first entered her mind.

"Hermione," she started slowly, "if I were able to find out something about the amulet, how would it help Harry?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Well, it would still be a bit hard to explain why he had been hiding all this time, but we could at least say that he had been sneaking around Hogwarts on my orders. No one would believe him if he found nothing, but if we were able to make it look like he found something—"

"I have an idea," Ginny interrupted. She shot out of her chair and grabbed the amulet from Hermione's hand.

Hermione and Ron stood up immediately. "What sort of idea?" Ron asked.

Ginny paused and frowned. "A bad one," she admitted, "but it still might work. I'll need a Shield Cloak."

Ron and Hermione followed her as she walked through the kitchen and toward the front door. She stopped at the wardrobe and began rummaging through it. She remembered Harry saying he had put a few extra cloaks in it a few days before they'd left for Hogwarts. After a minute of searching, she spotted one that would fit her. She pulled it out and wrapped it around her shoulders.

Ginny searched for more comfortable shoes. She'd need something a little more practical than the pair she'd been wearing at Hogwarts. The last thing she needed was another twisted ankle.

"Where are we going?" Ron asked.

"You two are staying here," Ginny told them.

"Oh, alright then," Ron said mockingly, "where are we going to stop you from going all by yourself?"

Ginny tossed a scowl at him and continued to tie the laces on her shoes. "You said it yourself, Ron," she replied. "Magical item shops are our best chance of figuring out what this is."

"Justinian isn't daft, Ginny," Ron argued. "He'd have checked all of the shops already."

"Justinian is a _good_ wizard," she said as she strode toward the door. "If this was made with dark magic, then he was checking the wrong shops."

"Ginny, you can't," Hermione pleaded. "It's already dark. You can't go alone. If you wait one minute Ron and I—"

"No one would talk to the three of us," Ginny said impatiently. "You work for the Ministry. Even if it were just Ron and I, we would look too suspicious."

Ron sighed and relaxed. "Alright," he said reluctantly. "Is there anything you want us to do?"

Ginny opened the door. "I shouldn't be long," she said with an encouraging smile. "I'll want some tea when I come back. If that doesn't happen with an hour, it would be nice if you sent out some Aurors to find me."

* * *

After watching Lupin say goodbye to Ron, Hermione and Ginny, Harry climbed back up the stairs and began searching for empty classrooms. He needed one which would be uninviting enough to discourage any students, but not so abandoned that he would leave footprints in the dust on the floor. He found one on the second floor and slipped through the door silently. 

He ate a meager dinner while sitting on a wide ledge under one of the windows. He hadn't expected McGonagall to ask them to leave. It had made things more difficult. It meant that he didn't have to deal with Hermione for the night, but there would be fewer explanations and hiding places if he was spotted.

In the end, it wouldn't matter, he told himself. He would just wait until all of the students had gone off to bed. No Aurors had been posted as guards inside the castle. The extra shift was usually sent around to patrol the corridors. It was always easier to sneak past patrols than guards who had been waiting hours for the slightest squeak or rustle.

Everything the Brotherhood had taught him was coming back to him. He would wait in the room until shortly after ten o' clock. The patrol would be most drowsy then. After fourteen hours of duty, they would be tired, but not yet preparing for the shift change at midnight. That would give him plenty of time.

Ever since the visit to the Hospital Wing he'd become increasingly aware that something wasn't quite right. He simply _felt_ it. When Ginny had returned with the strange amulet, he was convinced that it must have been connected to the odd feeling. The sight of it made him feel... tense. It was as though he found it both encouraging and threatening at the same time. However, after two hours and every spell Harry could find in Flitwick's office, he still couldn't find a single enchantment that had been put on it.

By the next morning, other things had become more important to him. Hermione had been waiting for him when he returned to the corridor leading to their rooms. He had been certain that no one had seen him, so Hermione's complaint could only mean that Harry wasn't the only wizard sneaking about the corridors.

That fit in nicely with the information his friends had found that morning. Harry had guessed that the Department of Mysteries had been involved from the very first moment he arrived at the scene of the attack. The story of Winston Fulbright and the missing page had given them an explanation for why the attack might have occurred. The revelation that someone else had gotten into the castle even explained how the attack had happened. However, there was still one thing that he couldn't make sense of.

The scene of the attack was duplicated with an almost obsessive amount of detail. If Reynard had wanted to make it look like Harry had attacked the girl, he could have picked a dozen other ways that would have been more convincing. Few people knew enough about the attacks in his second year to understand all of the signs. There was something more to it. It wasn't just a way of blaming Harry.

It was a message, and it was meant for him. The question was: What was it trying to say?

Harry sat by the window for over two hours, pondering that question. No matter how he tried to work through it, he always came back to the same result. All of the pieces were laid out in front of him: Ginny, the Diary, the message on the wall, the mirror.

Everything but one missing piece.

As the dusty clock in the room chimed ten o' clock, Harry knew where he needed to go. He slipped back out of the room and walked casually along the wall toward the stairs. He needed to find his way up to the third floor. He skipped over the trick stair between the second and third floors and looked up to find an Auror perched at the top of the staircase. Harry froze as he saw the Auror turn to face him. It was one of the Aurors who had met them at the gate the first day they'd arrived. Harry thought his name was Aberly. He appeared to be holding a large crystal in his hand. It was glowing faintly with a pale green light.

"What do you have there?" called out another voice. As Harry watched, a second Auror arrived to stand behind the first.

"I don't know," Aberly replied. "I thought I heard something on the stairs. If you trust these detector crystals, it's not an Auror."

The other Auror held up a second crystal and it too began to glow. "Interesting," he said as he pulled out his wand.

Harry didn't know what to do. The Aurors were searching the castle. They were searching for whoever was stalking the castle. However, at the moment, that person was Harry. If he didn't find some way to sneak off, they wouldn't care much for his theories of other wizards creeping about.

"Should we call the others?" Aberly whispered.

Harry felt a chill run up his spine. How many others were there? Did they all have those crystals? How was he supposed to hide?

The second Auror started descending the stairs, and Harry's mind started racing. He silently stepped down to the next lower step, but the Auror had covered three in the same amount of time. There was nothing he could do. _There has to be something,_ his mind pleaded. _Think of something, Harry!_

The Auror had walked half the distance to Harry when he stopped suddenly. His expression changed quickly from confusion to annoyance. "There's nothing here," he called out, though his crystal was glowing brighter than ever.

"You're probably right," Aberly agreed. "We don't even know if these things work. Come on. Let's go search the fifth floor. There's nothing happening around here."

Just as suddenly as he had stumbled upon them, the two Aurors turned around and walked off without another word, leaving Harry to stand bewildered on the staircase between the second and third floors. He remained where he stood for another minute just to make sure the Aurors were not waiting nearby to see if he would move.

Finally, he forced himself to finish climbing the stairs. At the top of the stairs there were no Aurors waiting for him. There was no sign of anyone at all. It felt as though he were the only one in the castle. Perhaps that would make it easier. Now that he was so close, he began to feel foolish for what he was about to do. If he didn't find anything, he didn't know what he'd do. He only knew that he couldn't go on without being certain.

He followed the main corridor until he found the scene of the attack. The message had been removed from the wall, but Harry could still see it clearly in his mind. Now that he stood there again, the message seemed obvious. He couldn't imagine why he hadn't seen it before. The one thing that was missing was the water. When Mrs. Norris had been attacked, the floor of the corridor had been covered with water from the girls' bathroom.

That was the same bathroom which had led to the Chamber of Secrets.

Harry turned to face the door to the bathroom and found a familiar face staring back at him.

"Hello, Harry," Moaning Myrtle greeted him. "I see you're still alive," she added bitterly. "I never believed them, you know, but a girl can still dream, can't she?"

After a moment to adjust to the knowledge that Myrtle could see him, he realized that this was an excellent opportunity. "Myrtle, I don't suppose you've seen anyone... unusual walking into to your bathroom lately."

"Oh, I see," she sneered. "You're just here because of _her_, aren't you? No one ever comes to talk to me about how _I'm_ doing. They barge into my stall and ask me pointless questions. It's alright. Myrtle's dead," she snapped. "She doesn't have anything better to do with her time than keep track of everyone who walks past her door."

"I'm sorry," Harry apologized. "How are you doing Myrtle?" he asked, hoping that it might calm her down.

"Nice try," she growled. "You'll have to answer your own questions." She turned up her nose and quickly floated across the corridor and through the far wall.

Harry let out a frustrated sigh. He hadn't even thought about the fact that Myrtle would be there. Now that she was gone, he had a hard time convincing himself that it was a bad development. She was one less person who he'd have to explain himself to. With a shrug, he pushed the door to the bathroom open and walked in.

He turned and walked toward the sinks. There was only one he was interested in. He remembered which one without a thought. As he stood in front of it he realized that he didn't know what he wanted to find. He wanted answers, but he was afraid of just what it might mean if he found what he expected.

Slowly, Harry bent over to take a closer look at the copper tap. He'd expected to see the shaper of a tiny snake scratched into the metal, but instead he saw something even more bizarre. Carved into the copper was the shape of a small circle crossed by three, evenly-spaced lines.

He bent closer to examine it. He hadn't expected to see anything but the snake which used to be there. This confirmed his suspicion that the attack was a message, but what was this supposed to tell him? Perhaps it wasn't a message at all, but a simple marker to tell him he was on the path. Of course, there was only one last step on the path to the Chamber.

Quietly, Harry focused on his memory of his second year and whispered in hisses that he barely recognized as his own voice:

_Open._

Nothing happened. He tried again with the same effect. What was he missing? What was he supposed to do?

"Not finding quite what you expect?"

Harry whirled about and found Valencia Desmoda standing against the far wall. She was dressed in long, dark robes and her dark hair framed her face, making it look as though it was glowing in the moonlight coming in through the windows.

Harry didn't know what to do. He was still wearing the Invisibility Cloak, but that didn't seem to stop her that morning. Did she know who he was? Could she truly see him or was she just guessing? In order to see just how much she could see, he silently took two steps back toward the door. Her eyes followed him without any delay. Harry's eyes narrowed in disbelief.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said with a short laugh. "Was I supposed to pretend that you fooled me?"

"You know who I am?"

"Yes, Harry," she said with a nod. "I know who you are."

"And you can see me?

"I can recognize you despite that charmed cloak of yours, yes," she answered. "If you wish to call it sight you may. However, to be fair, I would recognize you in a completely darkened room."

"How is that?"

"You are a very unique wizard, Harry. I'm afraid your power is far too great to be hidden by something as simple as an Invisibility Cloak."

"Why are you here?"

Valencia smiled. "I am here because you wanted to know about this room."

"How did you know I would come here?" Harry asked.

"You should know as well as I do," she answered. "How did you get past the Aurors? They were ordered to stay on the third floor at all times, and yet —unless I am mistaken— they have left."

"I don't know why they left," Harry said. "They just decided to go somewhere else."

"It is the same with me," Valencia said with a smile. "I just knew that you would be coming here tonight."

"But that still doesn't answer my question: _Why_ are you here?"

Valencia began walking toward him slowly. "_You_ are the reason I am here," she replied in a silky voice. "I very much wish to speak to you. I forced myself to be patient. I knew you would put it together eventually. You would see the pattern —the missing pieces— and come here looking for answers."

There was a strange look in Valencia's eyes, as though she was searching for something in his face. It made Harry feel uncomfortable and exposed. How did she know what he would do? How did she know about the attacks?

"You put the mark there," Harry gasped, "You— You attacked that girl. Why?"

"No, Harry," she replied calmly. "I did not attack Miss Franklin and I did not put that mark there, though I believe we are the only ones who know it is there."

Harry was still skeptical. "If you had nothing to do with this, why are you so interested in me?"

"I am interested in that mark," she replied. "I have seen it before. It was long ago, at the top of a very old roll of parchment. Since then I have searched for its meaning, but found nothing more than a handful of other sightings without any worthwhile pattern." She stepped closer and stared at him with an intense expression. "What does it mean? Why has it appeared here? Why now?"

"I don't know," Harry replied defensively. His mind immediately remembered the ring amulets worn by the Brotherhood, but he had no memories of them ever using such a symbol. His next thought was of Ginny's new amulet, but that shared only the same pattern of the three segmented circle. Neither of the ideas gave him any answers. "I don't really have an answer," admitted Harry. "I don't know where to look."

"I do," Valencia replied. "_You_ are the answer, Harry. This was put here as a message to you. I am convinced that you are meant to understand it. If you cannot, then I do not know if anyone ever will."

"Well, I'm sorry but I have no idea what it's supposed to mean."

"Perhaps there is something more we have missed," she suggested. "I will continue looking. Perhaps it is nothing more than a message for us to search for this symbol. I will try to find—"

Valencia stopped abruptly and turned toward the door. After a moment of silence, she turned toward Harry. "I think it's time for you to leave," she whispered. "More Aurors have arrived."

"More Aurors?" Harry asked.

"Yes," she replied, "the Ministry has sent twenty Aurors and a number of other wizards to search the castle."

"Twenty Aurors!" Harry felt his stomach tighten. He'd never be able to sneak past twenty Aurors. If only Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were still there, he might have a chance. He needed help, but there was no one left for him to trust. Valencia was his only option.

"I need to ask a favor," he told her. In a quiet voice he explained the crystals he'd seen earlier and his plan for sneaking out of the castle.

"You were planning to walk out?" she asked. "Didn't you know? They've locked the school. All the doors are locked and the main gates were shut hours ago. You're going to need to find some other way."

* * *

As she walked past the darkened shops along Diagon Alley, Ginny reflected upon the wisdom of her plan. Perhaps it was an even worse idea than she had thought. There had been something about the way Justinian had talked about the amulet that made her believe he truly had done a good job of researching it. It was only worth the risk if there was a chance that she might learn something. 

The number of wizards walking down the street dwindled. Most of them were exiting the last few shops remaining open and making their way to the _Leaky Cauldron_. For a moment, she had considered following them and asking Albert what he might have known. However, the chances of him knowing anything were even lower than her chances of getting a coherent explanation of it. Albert would be there when she returned. The longer she waited the more dangerous it got.

Finally she saw it. A small dark path branched off of the main street. For the moment, Ginny ignored it. She continued walking past it until she found a store front with a collection of plants sitting behind a large pane of glass. She stopped in front of it and took the opportunity to look back down the street. It was nearly empty. Almost all of the shapes were distant and moving away from her. The only one moving toward her was doing so in a halting, drunken stagger.

Calmly, Ginny turned around and began walking back to the darkened alleyway. This time she slowed down as she approached it and took a moment to pull the hood of her cloak over her head. The drunken wizard down the street stumbled and fell to his hands and knees. She considered helping him, but remembered that Harry's situation was a little more dire than a set of bruises which the poor man wouldn't even remember getting. She turned to face the dark path and read a crooked sign hanging off a nearby post:

_Knockturn Alley_

Gathering her courage, she walked through the narrow entrance and out into a dingy looking street lit with dusty lamps. She had expected to see more wizards than she did. There had been reports throughout the year that the shops in Knockturn Alley were seeing more and more business. _Borgin and Burkes_ had gone out of business, but not for lack of customers. In its place were no less than three different shops selling cursed artifacts and items infused with dark magic. With luck, one of them might be able to identify her amulet.

The relative emptiness of the street unnerved her more than it would have were it crowded. There was nowhere to hide. If something bad did happen, she would have to either turn and fight or take a hex in the back. She tried to put the thought of such things from her mind. She found the first shop: _Madam Drowspear's Dark Artifacts_.

She entered slowly and walked along the wall, looking at the various items for sale as she took note of all the other wizards milling about. At the far end of the shop was a large counter made from a block of stone which had a rather simplistic yet grisly painting on it. It depicted what appeared to be a werewolf biting the throat of a man wearing a golden crown. The lines were smudged as though the paint had been smeared on by someone's fingers. A set of four parallel scratches crossed the painting from the upper left to the lower right.

Behind the counter was an old crone who must have been Madam Drowspear. She was staring at Ginny with a single clouded eye. The other was closed and darkened as though it had been lost to some ancient wound. Her lips were curled back slightly with disgust and her eye followed Ginny wherever she went. There was little point in pretending to look at anything else, so she turned and approached the counter.

"Good evening," she said politely, "I presume you are Madam Drowspear?"

The old woman said nothing, but raised the eyebrow over her working eye.

Obviously this wasn't the sort of place where such pleasantries were common. Ginny quickly pulled the amulet out of her pocket and laid it on the counter. She kept a firm grip on the chain, just in case the woman might try something underhanded.

"I wonder if you know what this is," she said with as much confidence as she could find.

The woman's eye looked down for a second then jerked back up to stare at Ginny. After a few more seconds of silence, she answered in a hoarse voice.

"It is an amulet."

Ginny restrained her annoyance. "Do you know anything else about it?"

A grotesque smile broke across the witch's face. "I would," she croaked, "For, say... thirty Galleons."

"Thirty?" Ginny nearly choked. She had a small bag of gold with her, but not thirty Galleons. "What would you know for thirty Galleons?"

"Its rightful owner," the witch answered.

Ginny reached into her pocket and felt the small bag of coins. "How about ten Galleons?" she offered, hoping she might haggle the witch down to fifteen.

The witch let out a loud barking, cackle. "No, you foolish little girl! I'll pay you thirty Galleons," she said, "and then _I'll_ be its rightful owner."

Ginny frowned and stared at the witch as her laughs turned to wheezing gasps. "You don't know anything about it? Anything at all?"

"No," the witch hissed, "and neither do you. Thirty Galleons, girl. You'll get nothing better than that."

Ginny quickly pulled the amulet off the counter and turned around to leave the shop. As she walked to the door she heard the whispers and laughs of the shop's other customers. She ignored them and slipped through the door as silently as she could. Once back out on the street she stepped into the shadows and threw her back against a wall in frustrated embarrassment. A moment later a pair of wizards stepped out of the shop laughing loudly.

Ginny waited for them to pass, then stepped back out into the street. Part of her wanted to give up and return to Grimmauld Place, but she knew she had to at least try the other two shops. Hermione didn't say she needed to find out much. She just needed _something_.

A little ways down the street she found yet another shop which looked promising. Its owners had tried a little harder to make the shop look reputable and it had an appropriately generic name: _Warren Brothers Emporium_. Despite its cleaner appearance, it appeared to be drawing less of a crowd than _Madam Drowspear's_.

Ginny walked through the door and heard the clear jingling of a small silver bell over the doorway. The shop was large and spacious, but still quite dim. There was only one other customer in the shop: a small hunched woman pawing at a polished silver cauldron. Moments after she entered, a tall, lanky wizard appeared out of a doorway across the shop and gave her a curious look.

"Good evening, miss," the man said in a silky voice. "My name is Samuel Warren. Welcome to the _Warren Brothers Emporium_. I'm afraid that our shipment of, er... imported venoms has been delayed. The dragon teeth, however, arrived in fine shape." When Ginny didn't immediately respond, the man began talking a little faster. "Of course there are many other things a lady might be interested in. We have a fine assortment of jewelry. Perhaps you might be interested in a ring or necklace—"

Ginny twitched at the mention of necklaces. The shopkeeper didn't look like the type of wizard who would sell something without knowing what it was. If he knew about other necklaces, perhaps he might be able to tell her something about the amulet.

"Ah, there we are," the man said with a thin smile. "We have quite a few beautiful and useful necklaces, pendants, amulets and talismans. Let me show you what we have," he stated as he stepped around a table piled high with candles. "I just, er, acquired a fine flamestone pendant. It would like rather striking with the color of your hair."

"Actually, I'm interested in something specific," Ginny told him. She tried to make herself sound strong and confident.

"Of course," the man purred with a touch of curiosity. "We have been known to locate specific items for our more sophisticated customers. Tell me what you're interested in and we'll see what we can do."

"I'm interested in this," Ginny said as she pulled the amulet from her pocket. She held it up for the man to see.

"Intriguing," he replied while staring at the amulet. "On occasion, we've had customers ask us to find something they already have, but never something so unique as this," he whispered as his eyes slid from the amulet to Ginny herself. "What did you say your name was?"

"Elizabeth Harker," Ginny answered quickly, remembering the name Grigore Tarus had told her to use in Romania. It seemed to be a better idea than using her real name.

"Very well, Miss Harker. Perhaps you would follow me into the side room where we might conduct our business with a little more discretion."

As he spoke, he eyed another wizard who had just entered the shop. Ginny turned to look as well. The new customer seemed more intent on his own privacy than trying to invade anyone else's but Ginny recognized that if Hermione were right, the nature of the amulet might not be the sort of thing she would want anyone to overhear —even if only by accident.

Ginny nodded and followed the wiry wizard as he led her quickly back to the door he had appeared from. He opened the door and gave a slight bow as he motioned for her to enter. She paused briefly before entering to figure out just where she was being taken. The other room was not at all what she expected. It wasn't the cluttered, haphazard storage room her brother's kept, nor the clean but uninteresting room where they sold supplies to the Ministry and other more practical wizards. She slowly stepped into the room, marveling at the difference.

The room wasn't as large as the main shop, but felt much more spacious. Along the far wall sat two large desks separated by gold-trimmed partition. The walls were covered in dark wood inlaid with panels of dark maroon and the floors were tiled with dark grey stone which shimmered in the light of a large chandelier hanging from the ceiling. In the center of the room was a long, marble table with a number of richly carved chairs spaced evenly around it.

"You are surprised?" the man asked. "Perhaps you expected that we only traded the castoffs of the old hag down the street?"

Ginny shook her head. "No, I—" She was interrupted by a voice which came from yet another door opening into the room.

"Samuel!" shouted a man's voice. "If you're giving another bloody tour I'll skin you alive!" The disgruntled wizard's face appeared in the doorway a second later just as Samuel closed the door Ginny had just finished walking through. "Is this some sort of joke?" the man barked.

"Not at all," Samuel replied smoothly. "We have some business to discuss with her." He turned and gestured toward the table. "Please, sit down. Let me take your cloak for you."

"Oh, that's alright," she said. "It's really quite comfortable."

"I insist," Samuel replied forcefully. Only then did Ginny notice that he was holding his wand in his hand. His other hand was extended toward her, palm up. "Your cloak," he prompted again. She ignored her instincts, slipped it off her shoulders and handed it to him.

"Have a seat," he said cheerily as he walked over toward the two desks and hung the cloak from a hook on the partition. As he sat down across from her, the other man hobbled into the room. He was shorter and stockier than the wizard across from her. One of his legs was a wooden stump from the knee down and he walked in an awkward, halting manner that suggested it was fairly new.

"What does she want?" the stockier one asked gruffly.

"I have this," Ginny said as she placed the amulet on the table. The wizard hobbled over to the table and peered down at it. "I was wondering what you would think of it."

"Oh, is that what you were wondering?" the wizard grumbled. "That usually means one of two things. Either you don't know what to think of it, or you do and you're hoping we won't know that we're being swindled."

The other wizard laughed nervously. "Forgive him," he told Ginny, "Sanford hasn't been sleeping well. We sell items of value here. On occasion, we buy them. If you were looking for information, you might try a library."

Ginny kept her composure and continued staring at the man. He must have known something, or he wouldn't have brought her back to that room. "You said you occasionally buy items. How much would you give me for this?"

"We aren't an appraisal office either, girl," barked Sanford.

"Well, if you won't give me a good price, I won't sell it, will I?" she replied sharply. Perhaps they would respect her willingness to stand up for herself.

"Oh, is that how it'll work?" Sanford growled. "You'll only sell it if we fall for you little prank? That's a fine cloak you've got over there. Where did you get it, I wonder?"

Under the table, Ginny fumbled in her pocket for her wand. "I'm not here to trick you," she insisted. It was true, for the most part. "Tell me how much you'll pay for it and we'll go from there."

Sanford limped around the table, never taking his eyes off of her. "Oh, its worth quite a bit," he chuckled, "but that's not even close to enough to buy your way out of this room." He let out a short laugh and grinned maliciously.

In a single quick movement, Ginny grabbed the amulet from the table and jumped out of her chair. She raised her wand as quickly as she could and tried to decide which of them to hex first.

"_Expelliarmus!_"

Ginny felt a sickening emptiness in her hand. Samuel was staring at her with a piercing glare. "The Aurors will come looking for me," she said quickly, hoping it might frighten them into letting her go.

"They'll be too late," Samuel replied calmly. "That cloak of yours. You got it from that joke shop at Diagon Alley, didn't you?" His eyes narrowed. "Fred and George Weasley," he snarled. "They think they're so bloody clever don't they? You know them, don't you? Did they send you here? You've got red hair just like the rest of them. Must be a cousin or something. Pity they didn't send their talentless oaf of a brother."

"I'm only here to sell an amulet," Ginny said as she backed away from Sanford.

"Not anymore you're not," he told her. "Now you're here to help us send a message to those two tossers. They have to learn that there are consequences to their actions. You see my brother's leg? He lost it to a Severing Hex because of one of those bloody cloaks."

"Maybe he should be more careful who he attacks," Ginny snapped. She knew it was a bad idea the moment it left her mouth.

As quickly as a striking snake, Sanford wrapped a hand around her neck and threw her against the wall. She let out a short shriek which was cut off quickly as she struggled to breathe.

"Think you're clever, too, do you?" Sanford spat. He pulled out his wand and held it in front of her face where she could see it. "That's awfully brave coming from a pretty little bird like you. Maybe we'll make you sing for us?"

"Careful, Sanford," cautioned Samuel as he walked around the table to stand next to his brother. "Those two have found all sorts of things to charm with shields. There's no telling how many of them she might be wearing."

Sanford smiled greedily. "Then we'll just have to get rid of all of them, won't we, little bird?"

Ginny felt herself yanked forward and spun around. With a single thrust of his arm, Sanford tossed her back toward the center of the room. Ginny stumbled, then felt a sharp pain as her back struck the edge of the table in the center of the room. She let out a short scream then fell to the floor.

"So she can sing," Sanford chuckled. "Come on, pet. Let's hear some more."

The two of them strode forward and pulled her off the floor. "No worries, little girl," Samuel hissed as he pushed her back against the table. "We're not going to kill you. We need you to fly back to the Weasley's and let them know that their actions have consequences."

Ginny felt Sanford's hand clamp around her neck again. "How about another scream then?" he laughed. "I do like a bird with spirit."

Ginny gasped for breath and stared at the two wizards in front of her. Sanford just stood there, holding her and laughing. Samuel was more composed. He was staring at her with a crooked smile. Slowly he raised his wand and pointed it at her chest.

There was a flash of light.

Ginny closed her eyes and waited to feel the effects. There wasn't any pain. She didn't feel petrified or stunned. She was still wearing her robes. She could hear screaming, but it wasn't her own.

She opened her eyes. Samuel was no longer smiling. A gruesome cut had been opened across his face, starting at his forehead and extending down past his jaw under his ear. He howled in pain and spun away, pressing his hand against his face in an attempt to slow the bleeding. Sanford turned to try and figure out what had happened to his brother.

"Let go of her!" a voice shouted sharply. Ginny turned to see Josef striding across the stone floor leaving the ornately carved door open behind him. He paid no attention to Samuel's groans of agony as he marched toward Sanford with his wand drawn and pointed.

"Release her this moment or I will teach you of pain in ways even you have never imagined," Josef commanded him again.

Sanford released her and backed away hastily. "I— We— We didn't know, sir!" he stammered. "We didn't know she was with you lot!"

"We couldn't have known!" cried Samuel. "She didn't say anything! How were we supposed to know? We can't keep track of all the trophies you lot keep around you. Sure, she looks like the last one that came by, but you can't expect us to assume—"

"Enough!" shouted Josef. He flicked his wand, tossing Samuel against the wall. "I don't care what excuses you've got."

He walked over to Ginny and looked into her eyes. "Did they hurt you? Did they do anything at all?" Ginny was still gasping for breath, but she shook her head. He opened his robes and pulled out a small grey bundle. He quickly unfolded it to reveal a hooded cloak just like the ones the Brotherhood wore.

"Put this on," he said stiffly. "Put the hood up, walk out of the shop and wait for me by the door."

"What are you going to do?" she asked shakily.

"I have some business to attend to," Josef told her. "I won't be long. Please wait outside." Ginny tried to ask again, but a quick glance from him told her that he wouldn't hear any arguments.

Ginny draped the cloak over her shoulders and pulled the deep hood over her hair. She turned and started walking for the door. She paused as she reached it and turned back toward Josef. "My wand—"

"I'll get your wand," he replied without looking back at her. "Please go now."

Ginny sensed something perilous about his mood and she didn't feel like challenging him after everything that had just happened. She walked through the open door and back into the main room of the shop. Three wizards were standing about in the shop. They had been watching the door, but the moment she appeared, they all looked away immediately. One of them left the shop in a hurry. Ginny ignored him and tried to remain calm as she walked to the door.

Once outside the shop, she stopped and stood next to the door nervously. She noticed that the number of wizards milling about had grown, but none of them seemed to pay any attention to her. She caught a few quick glances from a few wizards, but they all quickly turned away much like the wizards in the shop.

Ginny flinched suddenly as a loud explosion shook the shop behind her. As before, a number of wizards turned to find the disturbance, but looked away as soon as they spotted her standing by the door. She heard a few more loud noises, including a cry of pain. Then, just as quickly as it started, the shop became completely silent. A few seconds later, Josef emerged from the shop and silently handed Ginny her wand. Without a word, he grabbed her arm gently but firmly and led her back toward Diagon Alley.

"Did you kill them?" hissed Ginny.

Josef frowned and kept walking. "It's nothing you need to worry about. You never should have come here in the first place, and I would ask that you not return."

"Did you kill them?" Ginny asked more loudly.

"Of course not," he replied. "I simply taught them to treat witches with a little more respect. Perhaps Harry needs to be taught this lesson as well. He should know better than to send a beautiful witch like you into Knockturn Alley alone. Where is he, anyway?"

"Hogwarts," she answered heavily. "We were told to leave, but Harry stayed behind. Now there's no way for him to leave and the Aurors are going to search the castle. If they find him the Ministry will throw him in Azkaban."

"So _this_ is how you decided to get my attention?" he asked. "A simple owl would have worked."

"If I'd have known you were nearby we might have done that. Hold on— Why are you here?"

Josef looked uncomfortable. "I am still a member of the Brotherhood. Though I volunteered for this task, he expects me to perform my duties at all times. I am supposed to watch Harry and report back if anything—"

"But Harry isn't here," Ginny interrupted. "You already admitted that you didn't know where he was." She paused as her mind arrived at the only possible conclusion. "You were following _me_. Why?"

Josef looked away and began mumbling an explanation: "Much as it was before Grigore's death, the easiest way to keep track of Harry is to keep track of you. That is all I was doing." Something still felt odd about the situation, but Ginny remained silent. There were more important issues at the moment and Josef recognized this as well. "So, how is this plan of yours supposed to help Harry? Were you planning on bribing an Auror or two with the gold from that necklace? If so, there is no need. I can supply the gold if you know which of them it might work on."

Ginny ignored her annoyance at how casually Josef spoke about bribing a Ministry employee. "No, we think the amulet is the reason he stayed behind," she explained as they stepped through the narrow opening that led back to Diagon Alley. "A wizard gave it to me last night. He didn't know what it was or how much it was worth. Harry didn't like it. He got really paranoid and we think he's trying to figure out what it is or where it came from. We hoped that if we could find any information about it, we might convince the Ministry that his sneaking about Hogwarts was part of the investigation. It might be enough to keep him out of Azkaban."

"So you've given up already, then?" mumbled Josef. "No matter. May I see the amulet?"

Ginny glanced about the deserted street before slowly pulling it out of her pocket and handing it to him. He inspected it for a minute or more, running his finger along the ring of worn runes and peering into the black gem in the middle.

"Those two in the shop seemed to know something about it," she said. "I don't suppose there's any chance they'll speak to us about it, is there?"

"No, I don't believe they will be speaking to anyone for another day or so." Josef flipped the amulet over to inspect the smooth surface on the back. "You should have trusted Harry's intuition about this," he told her. "Who gave this to you?"

"Er— Professor Lynch," she answered hesitantly. "Why should I have trusted Harry? What do you know about it?"

"You should trust Harry because he is usually right about things like this," Josef replied. "As for what I know about the amulet, it's nothing more than what the Warren brothers know, I'm afraid." He handed it back to. "This looks remarkably like an amulet that was stolen from the mansion of a very rich Egyptian wizard many years ago."

"Justinian said he— he found it in an old tomb. Are you saying that he stole it?"

"No," Josef replied flatly. "No, they found the wizard who stole it a few days after the theft. The found his body in a nearby cave. If it wasn't already a tomb he made it one. They never found the amulet. It seems as if your friend Lynch might have."

"What does it do?"

Josef shrugged. "I suspect it does little more than look pretty. Still, if Harry is worried about it, it is probably worth looking into. Perhaps you should leave that to me. I'll look into it and tell you whatever I find. There's no reason to trouble Harry with it until I have some answers ."

Ginny turned on him in an instant. "So you're just going to leave him in Azkaban until then?"

"Of course not," Josef laughed. "I can't believe you would allow him to spend one minute there. Harry evaded the Brotherhood for months. I trust he'll be able to avoid a few Aurors for a little longer. He still has one house-elf, doesn't he?"

"Yes," Ginny answered confusedly.

"I'd like to speak with it."

* * *

Harry followed closely behind Valencia as she slipped out of the bathroom. She had not walked more than twenty feet before a pair of shouts rang out behind them. Harry froze and backed against the wall. The two Aurors quickly walked up to Valencia and began interrogating her. A minute later, they frowned and sent her on her way. Harry followed her again. Hopefully, the crystals the Aurors were using would not be able to tell just how many people might be nearby. 

The two of them slowly made their way toward the Library. Valencia was fairly confident that the fireplace in the Library was still connected to the Spanish Floo System. Harry could use that to leave Hogwarts. Once out of the castle, he would have no problem making his way back to London.

They were allowed to pass without much resistance. The Aurors stopped and questioned Valencia a few times along their path, but none of them performed any more thorough searching which might have revealed Harry.

However, their luck ended quickly once they neared the Library. A pair of Ministry Aurors was standing in the middle of the corridor, and they were very firm in their insistence that no one was allowed past them. Valencia argued that she needed to get to the Library.

"We'll get you a pair of escorts, then," the older of the two Aurors replied.

Valencia smiled and told them that such measures were unnecessary. When they refused to allow her to pass without escort, she was forced to give up. "No, it's alright," she replied kindly. "I will simply go to sleep. I presume that I'll be allowed into my library tomorrow morning?"

"Yes, of course," the Auror replied.

Valencia turned around to walk away, but before she did, she gave Harry a quick nod, as if to tell him to ignore the Aurors and continue on. She walked slowly, giving Harry plenty of time to slip past them.

The Library wasn't far away. He quickened his pace, checking the corridor behind him to see that no one was following him. As he turned the last corner, he saw the doors to the Library ahead of him and a lone Auror standing guard in front of them.

Harry stood and stared at the young witch for almost a minute. He considered trying to stun her. He would be able to get to the Library before any of the other Aurors. Of course, it would also be yet another crime he would be charged with if he ever revealed himself. There had to be another way.

Harry crept back along the corridor until he found a room with an unlocked doorway. He quietly opened the door and closed it behind him. Perhaps the Auror was just watching the Library for a short time and he'd be able to get in later. It didn't seem like they were patrolling this corridor anymore. Perhaps they had already checked that part of the castle and would not be coming back. The best plan for the moment was to simply wait.

Just as Harry was trying to find a comfortable place to sit, a loud _crack_ echoed through the room. Harry leaped to his feet and pulled his wand out of his pocket. When he turned around he found Kreacher standing behind him with a rather sour look on his face.

"It is time for master to go," droned Kreacher.

"What are you doing here?" hissed Harry.

"Master must go," Kreacher repeated in an emotionless monotone. "Master is in danger. Master's nasty, traitorous friends are worried about him."

"So am I. What do you want me to do about it?"

"Kreacher doesn't want you to do anything," the house elf replied. "Kreacher would rather you jump out the window."

"That's very helpful," snapped Harry. "If they told you anything that might help me, then I'd like to know, otherwise shove off before the Aurors hear you."

"The red-haired one suggested you use a Portkey," Kreacher mumbled.

"A Portkey? That's a brilliant plan! Why didn't I think of that earlier?" Harry asked sarcastically. "Now, unless you've got one in your pocket— Hold on. Do you have one in your pocket?" Kreacher groaned and reached into a grimy pocket to pull out a small spoon.

"Thank you, Kreacher," Harry said flatly. "Put it on the floor and return to the house. I'll not have you causing trouble here. Tell Ginny I'll be along in— Where will it take me?"

"Kreacher doesn't know," he grumbled as he set the spoon on the floor. "Kreacher doesn't care." He disappeared suddenly with a light _pop_.

He didn't know where the Portkey would take him, but it seemed to be the only way for him to escape Hogwarts. He had been prepared to take the Floo System to Barcelona. The Portkey could not be any worse. Harry took a deep breath and grabbed the spoon.

There was a short delay, then he felt his stomach turn inside out and Hogwarts disappeared from around him. There were a few seconds of bewildering darkness and then he felt himself land on soft grass. After struggling with his Invisibility Cloak for a moment, he gave up and simply pulled it off. Only then did he realize that another wizard was standing nearby. He rolled onto his back and fumbled with his wand.

"Good to see you, Harry," Josef greeted him. "A bit slow with the wand, though. Come inside. Ginny was worried about you.

* * *

The next day, Ginny and Hermione returned to Hogwarts just as they said they would. Harry and Ron both remained at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Harry was in no hurry to return and risk proving that the previous night's search had not been effective. He needed to be able to return on those occasions when it was truly necessary without having to worry about an army of Aurors milling about the school. 

This pattern continued throughout the week. Some days Ginny would accompany Hermione to Hogwarts, other days she would report to the Ministry. She tried to bring back whatever information she learned from Harrington, but in the end most of it was too boring for Harry to truly take much interest in.

The Ministry had not been bothering Ginny nearly as much as anyone had expected they would. Everyone's worries about Auguste Reynard attempting to interrogate Ginny still had not materialized. He seemed to be keeping his distance from her, and had not even sent a single wizard to see if she had returned to the Ministry.

On the days when she would join Hermione, Ginny would usually return looking somewhat more depressed than usual. She had been checking on Miraphora Franklin. By all reports, she had not gotten much worse since the day Harry had run from the Hospital Wing. She had not gotten any better, either. She seemed to have simply frozen in time, stuck in a perpetual coma.

Harry couldn't help but feel as though there was something he should be doing about this. He had asked Ginny to try and keep an eye on her, but there was not much to report. In fact, there wasn't much to report at all from Hogwarts. Nothing interesting or suspicions had happened since that night. Hermione didn't have any choice but to return each day. She had no office and no other assignment to work on. Ginny had less of a reason.

Ron and Harry had even less reason to pay attention to Hogwarts. By the end of the week, Ron was getting rather impatient and frustrated. However, unlike Harry, he was able to leave and find other ways to entertain himself. For months, Harry had spent almost every single day running from the Brotherhood. Now he was left alone to sit and wait for something to happen that might require his assistance. Ginny felt sorry for him, but there was little she could do. She would spend the entire day away from Grimmauld Place, and by the time she returned, Harry was hardly in any mood to try and enjoy himself. She began looking forward to the weekend so she might relax and try to simply enjoy life with Harry.

However, when the weekend finally arrived, Ginny found herself feeling noticeably uncomfortable. She couldn't really say what didn't feel right, but she knew that something in the world wasn't quite the way it was supposed to be. She had felt it before, but she had been convincing herself it was simply paranoia after the last few months. The more time she spent with Harry, the harder it was to convince herself of that.

He had been more irritable over the last few days and at night his sleep was restless. On a few nights, Ginny had resorted to the use of mild sleeping potions to allow both of them to try and get a full night's sleep. Saturday night had been one of those nights. Harry had come to bed late that night, and Ginny had been woken up almost immediately by his fitful tossing as he tried to get a night's rest.

She had poured some of the pale blue liquid into two cups and diluted both with water. After waking Harry just enough to get him to drink his portion, she sat down next to him and waited for the potion to take effect. Once he seemed to relax and settle into a deeper sleep, she drank hers and then pulled the covers around her tightly, hoping for a quiet night's sleep.

* * *

Ginny awoke suddenly. She had thought she'd heard something, but she didn't know just what it was, or even if it was real. She had been sleeping uneasily all night and her dreams had been more troubled than usual. It wasn't the first time she had been startled from her sleep that night, but it felt different somehow. 

She rolled over to check on Harry. He was sleeping heavily, and hadn't noticed her restlessness. She tried to close her eyes and force herself back to sleep but it was impossible. Something was wrong. Her heart was beating faster than normal, and her muscles were tense.

Admitting to herself that she wouldn't be falling back to sleep easily, she carefully slipped out of bed and paced around the room. She felt anxious, but she could not remember why. Her dreams had been nothing terribly unusual. They were the same nightmares she had been having for years. She stopped as she reached the bed again, rubbed her eyes, and pulled back the sheets for yet another attempt at sleep.

Suddenly she heard a muffled noise from the corridor leading to the bedroom. It had sounded like the snapping of a large branch followed by the falling of small pebbles. Without Quidditch to occupy him, Ron had been sleeping less and his midnight wandering had woken Ginny up the last two days.

At the time, her curiosity was stronger than her desire for sleep, so she decided to go and investigate. If Ron had broken anything, he was likely to do a poor job of repairing it. She took her wand from the small table near the bed and walked over to the door. She turned the handle slowly, careful not to wake Harry. She stepped out into the corridor and pulled the door closed behind her.

The corridor was empty. As she stepped forward, a candle flickered to life, emitting a weak yellowish light.

"Ron?" Ginny called out. "Is that you?"

When she got no response, she pulled out her wand and whispered "_Lumos._" The tip of her wand flooded the corridor with light. She was alone.

"Ron?" she called again.

Even if it hadn't been Ron, she hadn't imagined the sound she'd heard. She walked forward toward the stairs, passing her wand along the walls and floor as she walked. As she neared the landing between the stairs leading down toward the kitchen and those leading up to the third floor where Ron and Hermione slept, she saw something odd on the floor. The rug seemed to be sparkling as though covered in a thousand jewels.

She knelt down to take a closer look at the rug. She picked up one of the small jewels and inspected it closer. It wasn't a jewel at all. Its edges were jagged and dangerously sharp.

It was glass.

Ginny stood up and searched for some sign of a missing vase or spilled liquid. Suddenly, she realized where the glass had come from. Directly in front of her, looking more like a frame which had lost its painting, was a tall mirror. Only a few shards of the glass were left in the frame. The rest had been shattered completely and scattered along the floor.

Suddenly, she felt a warm breeze across the back of her neck. She turned around, aiming her wand down the corridor. It was just as empty as it had been a minute ago, and she had not heard a single sound since she left the bedroom.

"Ron?" she called out one more time.

There was still no answer. Ginny stood up and began walking back toward the bedroom. Her heart was racing and her skin felt unnaturally warm. Maybe she was getting ill. She tried to tell herself that she just needed sleep. She passed her hand by the candle as she passed by, extinguishing it and leaving her wand as the only source of light.

"Ginny?" Ron's voice called out, startling Ginny. She turned back toward the stairway where he'd called from. "Did you call me?" he asked.

"Yes, I suppose so," she replied with a soft voice. "Did you break a mirror?"

"No," he answered, "but Kreacher's been a bit more grumpy than usual. He's been taking it out on the furniture."

"Right," she called back. "I'm sure that's it."

"Don't worry about it. I'll see if I can find him and make him fix it. You can go back to sleep."

"Yeah," she agreed, "I think I should." She let out a deep sigh and rubbed her eyes. She turned around and froze before taking a single step.

A large dark shape was standing only a few feet in front of her. It appeared to be a wizard draped in a heavy black cloak. The hood hung down over the wizard's eyes, but Ginny could still see his pale lower face. Ginny's throat tightened and her blood ran cold. Where had he come from? As Ginny stumbled backward, the wizard spoke in a soft, but resonant voice:

"It is you."

"Ron!" Ginny shouted. "Ron! Come down here!"

The wizard in front of her didn't react at all. He didn't even appear to be breathing. Ginny held up her wand. "Why are you here?"

The wizard simply stood in place like some grim statue. "Our time will come," he spoke slowly, "but not yet."

"What does that mean? Who are you?"

A slow smile spread across the wizard's face. He began speaking again, but Ginny couldn't understand what he was saying. He seemed to be whispering or mumbling something. As he spoke, he turned slowly to look at the bedroom door behind him.

Ginny heard the sound of feet leaping down the stairs. She turned and saw Ron bound into view, holding his wand out in front of him. "What is it?" he shouted loudly as he jumped over the shattered bits of glass. "What's wrong?"

"He just appeared," Ginny told him. "He wasn't there, and then he just _appeared_."

"Who appeared?" Ron asked confusedly.

Ginny turned and looked back toward the wizard only to find that he wasn't there. He had been there just a second ago. "A wizard!" Ginny cried out desperately. "He was just here! He started whispering something and then— Oh no!"

"What is it?" Ron asked again.

"He wasn't whispering!" Ginny yelled as she ran for the bedroom door. She threw it open and dashed across the room. Ron was already at the door and following her quickly.

Ginny dove onto the bed and found Harry lying just where she had left him. His whole body was stiff and tense. To her horror, she found just what she expected: Harry's lips were also moving and a stream of unintelligible hissing sounds.

"What's wrong with him?" Ron asked as he reached the bed. "What is he doing?"

"He's speaking Parseltongue in his dream," she said as she grabbed Harry's shoulders.

"What does that mean?"

"It means we have to wake him up. _Now._" She leaned over Harry and tried to shake him with all her strength.

"Harry!" she shouted. "You have to wake up!"

* * *

**Author Notes: **I told you the next one would be quick. I have to say, I'm very fond of the end of this chapter. I promise I'll put up the next one as soon as I get it back and ready. 


	9. The Old Potion Room

_This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

**CHAPTER 9**

**The Old Potion Room**

* * *

Harry peered around at the dim shapes surrounding him. He was in a hall of some sort, but he could only faintly make out the floor and the faint shadows on either side of him. Everything else was hidden by a deep darkness. The stones on the floor were damp and he could hear the faint noise of trickling water. Slowly his memory started filling in everything he couldn't see. The hazy patterns on either side of him were rows of tall pillars, carved with shapes he was glad he could not make out. 

It was the Chamber of Secrets.

_It isn't real,_ he told himself. _It's a dream. It's only a dream._ It was only a little comforting. Telling himself that it was just a dream didn't stop it from feeling much more real than anything in the past year of his life. He could no more wake himself from the dream than he could wake himself from the last week of events.

It was different. The greenish light which he remembered was gone, dropping the Chamber into a deeper darkness. In its place was a pale, white light which came from somewhere ahead of him. He walked forward cautiously. It was a dream. It had to be, and yet he couldn't forget what had been in the Chamber the last time he had been there. He kept walking, unsure of what he would find when he reached the end of the Chamber, but certain that it was the only thing he could do.

The closer he got to the end, the brighter the light got. It wasn't nearly enough to illuminate the walls or ceiling, but he could now see the carved pillars clearly. Ahead of him he could see the last of the enormous columns and the eerie statue of Salazar Slytherin towering over the shining source of the pale light. He passed the last pillars and froze as his eyes adjusted to the brighter surroundings.

The light which had drawn him there was radiating from the shape of a young woman lying on the floor of the Chamber. Surrounding her was a vast pool of crimson blood. Harry followed the perimeter of the pool in an attempt to confirm the identity of the woman. She was curled up on her side and wearing a simple white nightgown that filled the area with a pure white light. Harry looked for some reason or source for the pool of blood around her, but her skin was pale and clean, without any sign violence or injury.

He continued around her, until he was able to see her face. He stopped again, forcing himself to continue breathing. _It isn't real,_ he told himself. Her face looked calm and peaceful. Her bright red hair framed her face elegantly as it swirled down to mix with the blood beneath her. _It's not Ginny,_ he repeated, _It's not real._ He tore his eyes away from her and began scanning the Chamber. There had to be some other reason he was there. He turned around to stare at the giant statue of Slytherin, expecting to see the Basilisk sliding out of his mouth.

"You're too late, Harry," announced a voice behind him.

He spun around to find Ginny staring up at him with a passive expression. Slowly, she pushed herself up into a sitting position, then stood up to face him. As she stepped closer to him, Harry realized that she didn't have any blood at all on her. Her nightgown was still the same brilliant, shining white that it had been. Her skin was pale and unstained and her hair cascaded down her neck and shoulders, looking as lustrous and vibrant as it did in the summer sun.

"What happened?" Harry asked warily.

Ginny smiled and stared back at him with brilliant green eyes. "Nothing yet," she replied softly, "but it will, and you will be too late to stop it."

"To stop what?" Harry pressed.

Ginny's expression softened into one of pity. "Follow me, Harry," she whispered.

She turned and began walking toward one of the shadowy walls beyond the pillars. As she stepped beyond the pool of blood, Harry saw her leaving a trail of red footprints, though her bare feet didn't appear to have any blood on them. She was walking surprisingly quickly and Harry had to jog to catch up with her.

"Where are we going?" he asked as he noticed the dim shape of an arched entryway cut into the wall.

Ginny ignored him and passed through the arch, filling the narrow corridor beyond it with light. Harry reached the arch moments later. He followed behind her, uncertain of what any of it could mean. Up ahead of them Harry saw a corner approaching. When Ginny reached it, she paused to glance back over her shoulder at him. Her eyes seemed to flash for an instant, then she smiled and turned the corner. Harry followed her, but as soon as he turned the corner, he found himself in complete darkness.

He quickly turned back to search behind him, but there was nothing. There was no sound or hint of light to tell him where Ginny had gone. More importantly, there was no light at all to tell him where he was. Quickly, he searched his pockets and found his wand.

"_Lumos!_"

The corridor was lit up again and it took Harry only a short time to work out just where Ginny had been headed. As he shone his wand down the path she had taken, he saw something he would not have thought to search for: dark footprints glistening in the light from his wand. With nothing else he could do, Harry followed them.

The stone on the floor and walls didn't look anything like the stone in the Chamber. It was dry and gritty, though cut along smooth, sharp lines. As Harry followed the footsteps, he expected them to becoming increasingly faint, but what he saw was actually the opposite result. The footprints became darker and more defined. Soon he noticed other dark spots along the path. A quick inspection told him they were just what he feared they were. He picked up his pace to a light jog. Ginny couldn't be far ahead of him.

As he made his way along the corridor, he kept his wand pointed toward the floor so he could try and figure out how quickly Ginny had been walking. As far as he could tell, she was still walking in the same measured stride that she had set out with. He couldn't understand why he hadn't found her. have gotten that far ahead of him. Just as he was about to turn around he saw something on the ground ahead of him.

There was a break in the footsteps and a few feet later, a dark, wet patch of stone. Harry didn't need to kneel down to know what it was. There was nowhere she could have gone. Harry cautiously stepped over the small puddle and found more footprints. They were spaced more erratically now and Harry occasionally caught red smears along the walls as the trail occasionally veered off to one side or the other.

Ahead of him, Harry heard voices. He turned his focus from the footprints to the direction of the voices. As he ran, he noticed the footprints getting more erratic. She had been running as well. Where they came close to the walls he found dark, shapeless impressions with long lines of thick liquid making their way to the floor. He aimed his wand farther down the path and saw something glimmering back at him. It wasn't far away. He forced himself to run a little faster.

Only a moment later, he skidded to a halt in front of a pair of huge doors. It looked as though they were made out of solid gold. Harry pointed his wand at them and stepped back suddenly, in disgust. There was a large patch of blood smeared and dripping down the center of the two doors. Harry tried to ignore the smell and stepped closer to inspect the doors.

They were not smooth, but carved with a thousand small shapes of snakes and lions, much like the doors to the Veil Chamber in Romania. However, these doors had something else: a huge circle carved into their surface with three short lines crossing it and cutting it into thirds. In the middle of the circle was a single bloody hand print with red tracks still dripping down to the floor.

Faint voices were still coming from the other side. Harry stepped closer to the door again, trying to hear what they were saying. His stomach turned at the smell of the blood before he could make out any of the speech. It looked as though Ginny had at least tried to open the doors. Where did they lead? Why were they here? What did the symbol mean?

_It's not real,_ he reminded himself, though his stomach didn't seem convinced. _I'm meant to go through. It's just a dream..._ Harry put his hands on either side of the hand prints, and gave the doors a firm push. With surprising ease, they swung open and Harry found himself staring into the twinkling eyes of Albus Dumbledore.

"Welcome, Harry," the old wizard greeted him warmly. He clapped Harry on the back with his hand and ushered him out of the doorway. Once they were both clear, Dumbledore carefully closed the doors. As he walked back to join Harry, he wiped his hands on his robes leaving a pair of dark red smudges. Dumbledore smiled and put a hand on Harry's shoulder, gently pressing him forward.

"No point in worrying about any of that now, Harry," he said cheerily. "I've got a special treat for you." There was a second door not far ahead of them. It looked to be made of heavy stone and as soon as they neared it, it swung open smoothly.

"You see, Grigore? I told you he would make it alright," Dumbledore called out as he pulled Harry through the door.

"Yes, I feel so foolish," Grigore Tarus replied sarcastically. "Now tell him to hurry up. Sirius is already finished with the next one."

"Sirius?" Harry asked as Grigore closed the door behind them and pointed his wand at it, making a heavy steel bar appear across it. "Sirius is here?"

"Yes, yes," laughed Dumbledore. "He's very eager to speak with you, too."

Harry stopped. "But Sirius is— You're all dead..." he said weakly. Grigore walked past Harry and Dumbledore tossing an annoyed glance over his shoulder.

"And what does that mean?" Dumbledore asked as he led Harry toward yet another door. This one was made of dark wood and metal. Grigore reached it first and opened it for Harry and Dumbledore.

"It means you're not really talking to me," Harry replied. "I mean, this isn't like Priori Incantatem. This is just a dream."

"Always viewing the world in such extremes," commented Grigore. He shook his head, glaring reproachfully at Dumbledore. "Dead or alive. Dream or reality. Dark or light. Good or evil. It's no surprise we're here, is it Albus?"

"It cannot be helped," Dumbledore replied lightly, then turned around to cast a spell on the door behind them. Harry turned to see it shimmering with a golden light. The moment he turned back around he saw Sirius opening a pair of polished wooden doors in front of them.

"Harry!" he shouted excitedly. "Harry! Come on through! Quickly now!" He jumped through the doorway and wrapped Harry in a firm hug. "It's great to see you again, Harry."

"You're dead," Harry said flatly. "You're not real."

Sirius frowned. "And you're taller than you were when I last saw you, but I'm not about to let that stop me, either." He smiled again and pushed Harry through the door. "I did the last two," he called back to Grigore and Dumbledore. "I made Cedric do the next one. He's still a bit shaky, but Dobby's helping him."

"Dobby?" Harry remarked. "Dobby's here?"

"Yes, of course," Sirius replied distractedly. "House elves are bloody useful when they're properly obedient. Anyway, Albus insisted."

"Grigore was the one who killed him!" Harry shouted, pointing a finger at the older wizard.

"I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding," Sirius whispered. "No point in getting all worked up over it now, is there?"

They reached the next door and Sirius opened it for everyone to enter. Dobby and Cedric Diggory were waiting on the other side. Sirius remained behind a moment, inspecting the door before closing it and locking it with his wand.

"That one looked a little flimsy, Diggory," commented Sirius. "Did you do the next as well?"

"I did, yeah, but it's iron. It turned out pretty well the first time. I only needed help with the hinges," Cedric replied, then gave a small jump. "Oh, hello there, Harry. Do you want to lock the next one?"

Harry stared at the dull metal door down the corridor. "I don't—"

"Of course he does," Grigore called out. Harry noticed him giving Dumbledore a questioning glance.

When Harry reached the next door, an unusually somber Dobby opened the door. For a second, Harry stood frozen, staring down the corridor. Farther down the corridor, Harry could see an arch of pale stone standing across the path. A veil of thin material was draped across it and it swayed gently as if a gentle breeze were passing by it.

A pair of strong hands pushed him through the doorway and everyone else filed in behind him. Harry couldn't take his eyes off the Veil. It had been haunting his dreams for some time, but never like this. They had always been memories. This felt different. This had meaning but he couldn't tell what it was.

"Go on then, Harry," Grigore said with a nudge. "Let's see you lock it."

Harry turned back toward the metal door and suddenly realized what had been going on. "No," he said. "No, I won't. We need to turn around." Grigore raised an eyebrow and calmly asked why he would ever want to do that. Harry felt a surge of anger. "I know what _that_ is," he snapped, pointing down the corridor to the arch. "We can't go that way."

Grigore smiled and turned toward Dumbledore. "You see, Albus? Always thinking in absolutes. Always accepting the most obvious solution."

Dumbledore frowned and waved his wand at the door. A loud click echoed through the crowded corridor. "He has lived a difficult life, Grigore," Dumbledore said. "He is still learning."

"I wish he would have learned a bit faster," Grigore shot back as he walked away from the door. "I might not have been here." He began tapping the walls with his wand, leaving spots which glowed a bright lavender. Once he'd placed four spots on each wall, he swept his wand across the opening and a pair of heavy metal grates appeared across it.

"Not bad," commented Cedric as he stepped through and inspected the hinges. "You actually turned the wall to steel? I wouldn't have thought of that."

Dumbledore and Sirius walked through behind him. Dobby was the last to go, and he stopped at the gate to stare back at Harry. "Harry Potter must follow," he urged. "He cannot go back that way. He must follow."

"No, Dobby," Harry said firmly. "The Veil isn't a way out. I won't go."

"Harry Potter must."

"No," he replied forcefully. "I have to go _that_ way." He turned to point toward the iron door, but found the iron grate instead. When he turned back to Dobby, he found that he was already standing with Dumbledore, Grigore and a rather upset looking Sirius. The door behind him was locked and closed.

"Why can't you lot just let him be?" Sirius asked. "There's nothing he can do to stop it. It's best if he just enjoy himself while he can."

"It's because of that sort of attitude that he's so short sighted," Grigore replied. Behind him, Harry saw Dumbledore swirling patterns to a pair of crystal doors he'd just summoned into existence. "He sees his life as a sinking ship," continued Grigore. "He's always looking for some way to stop the leak, never realizing that he is already at the bottom of the sea."

"There is something to be said for the happiness gained by such ignorance," remarked Sirius as he stepped through the crystal doors.

"Not for those he takes with him," Grigore retorted. "You all should have seen this coming. It could have been prevented if—"

"It could not have been prevented," interrupted Dumbledore. "We had no more power to change fate than he does. Now, come on Harry. We must keep moving."

"No," he replied defiantly. "I won't go any further. I'm not going to give up. I'll fight... whatever is happening."

Suddenly Grigore's arm shot out and latched onto Harry's shoulder with an iron grip. "It's too late to fight, Harry," he growled. Harry tried to twist free, but it only made it easier for Grigore to drag him down the corridor. As he shoved Harry through the crystal doors, Grigore glared at him behind bright green eyes. "There's no point in this, Harry. You lost this battle long ago."

"This isn't real!" Harry shouted. "You're not here. You're just something I created in a dream!"

Grigore laughed as he walked toward the Veil, which was now no more than thirty feet away. "No, Harry, I'm afraid the reverse is much closer to the truth." He stopped halfway to the Veil and held his hands out in front of himself. With a great rumbling, huge slabs of rock burst forth from the walls to form a pair of huge stone doors.

They were both pitted and weathered as though they were quite ancient. A huge crack reached across the left door, but the right door was mostly intact. It seemed to have writing on it, but it had been almost entirely worn smooth. The only recognizable marking was a circle about the size of his hand carved into the upper half of the door. Half of it had been chipped away, but he could still see the places where two short grooves crossed the circle. It was the same mark again. What did it mean?

"You know what has to be done, Harry," Grigore said sharply. "This is why you are here. This is your purpose —your fate." His eyes seemed to be glowing in the dim light of the corridor.

"No. I'll make my own fate," Harry replied.

"Yes," Grigore growled, "I know you will." He shoved the stone doors and they opened, filling the corridor with the sound of grinding stone. Through the opening, Harry could see the Veil twisting and flapping as though driven by a brisk wind. "This is what you were meant to do."

"No. You were tricked," Harry told him. "You were wrong. You thought you were doing the right thing, but you— you were... deceived."

"He was deceived by _you_," Dumbledore interjected.

"No! I had nothing to do with this. I tried to stop it!" he shouted. Dumbledore smiled, and for a moment his eyes twinkled like an emerald in the sun. Harry stepped back and stared at his former friends. "None of you are real," he murmured. "Why are you here?"

"If you wanted to stop it, we wouldn't be here," Grigore replied with a faint smile. "You won't stop it. You want to fail, and you will."

Harry felt his heart racing. His whole body was trembling. "No..." he murmured, "...I won't. I can't—"

"Just accept it, Harry," commented Sirius. "There's no point in getting all worked up about it now. It's too late for any of that." His eyes were filled with an eerie green light as well.

A second later, he felt a pair of strong hands grab a hold of one of his arms. It was Cedric. His gentle expression was now gone and in its place was one of cold determination. "It won't be long now, Harry," he said in a flat voice. His eyes swirled and flashed green like the others. Sirius grabbed his other arm and together they pulled him to the stone doors and tossed him through.

The corridor shuddered with the sound of the heavy doors slamming back into place, but Harry barely heard it. His mind was already filling with a nearly deafening growl. He turned toward the arch and saw that the Veil had been torn away. Standing in the middle of the black emptiness beyond the arch, he saw a wilder, corrupted version of himself staring back with flickering green eyes.

"_Bring her to me,_" it spoke in Parseltongue.

"No—"

"_It is pointless to fight,_" it said. "_I will have her whether you obey me or not._"

Harry's whole body was shaking as he tried to stand up. His vision was getting darker and he was feeling more and more disoriented.

"_Bring her to me, or I will take her from you._"

Harry managed to stand. He turned away from the figure in the arch and looked into the black void where the stone doors must have been. He took a step, felt his legs give out underneath him, and toppled onto the gritty floor.

"No!" Harry shouted. "I won't let you have her!"

A deep roar filled his ears as yellow light exploded across his vision. He blinked his eyes against the glare and tried to push himself away from the source. His head struck something, sending another flash of light to his eyes. When it faded he saw that he wasn't in the corridor anymore. He was in his bed, half-covered by the surprisingly warm bedclothes. Three blurry shapes were leaning over him. The one in the middle looked more familiar than the other two.

* * *

Ginny could feel Ron and Hermione's stares as she put her hands on Harry's chest to try and calm him down. His face was pale, but his whole body felt hot, as though he had spent the entire day in the summer sun. 

She gently reached for his glasses, and offered them to him. He squinted at them for a moment, the slipped them on. He blinked a few more times, looking at all three of them, then ran his hand through his hair and sat up more fully in bed.

"How long have you lot been here?" he asked in a raspy voice.

"Not long," Ginny replied quickly. "Ron and I got here about a minute ago. Hermione's only just arrived. I tried to wake you, but— Hermione had to use her wand."

Harry leaned forward and rubbed his eyes. "Did I say anything?"

"Did you—" Ron started saying before choking on his own surprise. "Yes, you did. You were... _hissing_ and then you shouted that you'd—"

"He knows what he said, Ron!" snapped Ginny. She turned toward Harry and tried to speak in a more comforting tone. "You were speaking Parseltongue again, but it was—"

"Again?" blurted Ron. "He's done this before?"

"Not now, Ron," Ginny growled, then turned back to Harry. "It was different this time. I think you were in some sort of argument."

"I remember," Harry acknowledged as he pushed back the sheets and tossed his legs over the side of the bed.

"Do you remember how it ended?" she asked pointedly. Harry paused and stared at her. She could read the answer in his eyes. It had frightened him as well, but there was no surprise at all in his expression. He hadn't looked shocked or confused about what he had shouted. Ginny had trouble swallowing as she realized why. Whatever he'd been arguing about, it was not the first time he'd done it. She suddenly wished she hadn't asked him if he remembered it.

"Well? Do you?" prompted Ron.

Hermione finally took her eyes off Ginny to frown at Ron. "Not now, Ron," she whispered.

"Why not now?" Ron replied forcefully. "Ginny says she saw something sneaking about the house, then it disappears and suddenly Harry's stuck in some dream, talking Parseltongue to someone who wants to take her. Is there some better topic we should be discussing? It seems a bit early to be planning breakfast."

Ron obviously didn't understand what was going on. To be honest, even Ginny didn't have any idea what was happening, but she was certain that whatever she saw in the hallway and whatever had happened in Harry's dream weren't the most serious issues at hand. Harry seemed to disagree.

His hand grabbed her shoulder, gripping it almost painfully. "You saw him?" he asked in a desperate tone. "When? Where was he?"

"I don't know what I saw," Ginny replied, though she couldn't ignore that Harry seemed to know more than she did.

"Did he say anything to you?"

"Er—" Ginny began, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. "He didn't really say much at all. I mean— he said things, but... It was just hissing to me."

"Nothing else?" Harry asked with a penetrating gaze.

"No," Ginny replied. She tried to look back at him, but it was too difficult. The words she'd heard were still echoing in her mind: _Our time will come, but not yet._ Had she heard the wizard speak them, or had she just imagined them? Now that she tried to recall what she'd seen, it was getting more difficult to separate her memories from her imagination.

Harry stared at her for a few more seconds before jumping off the bed. "Right," he said sharply. He snatched his wand from a small table nearby and pointed it at the wardrobe across the room. The doors flew open and a number of garments jumped out and sailed across the room to a small chair.

"Do you have some previous appointment you forgot to tell us about?" Ron asked.

"No, I'm going to Hogwarts," Harry announced flatly. "You're welcome to join me if you like. I admit that it will be easier if you help me."

Ginny found herself on her feet and striding toward the second wardrobe where she had moved much of her clothes over the past week. Behind her, she could hear Harry listing off things they would need to gather before they left: The Invisibility Cloak, extra Shield Cloaks, a few spare wands, and a small bag of food.

"Why are we going _now_?" Ron asked as he began rummaging through one of Harry's trunks. "Who's going to be awake at this hour?"

"Hardly anyone," Harry replied flatly. He had disappeared into a closet with his clothes. A minute later he reappeared wearing plain black robes over lightweight clothes. His Invisibility Cloak was draped over one arm. He tossed it on the bed and began pulling on a pair of dragonhide boots.

"Here are three wands," Ron said, laying them out on the floor near Harry's feet. "There are only two Shield Cloaks here and they're too big for Ginny and Hermione."

"There should be three more in the kitchen," Harry replied. "Take all three," he added quietly. "Give the extra one to Ginny."

Ginny turned to look at Harry, but he was focused on his boots instead. Hermione and Ron gave her strange looks, and she forced herself to turn away. Something had frightened Harry. She had been right. Something serious was happening.

"What's all this for, Harry?" Ron asked as he laid the cloaks down next to the wands, then tossed down a bag to carry them in. "Cloaks? Extra wands? Are we going to be attacked when we get to Hogwarts?"

Harry finished strapping on the boots. "I hope not," he said with a frown, "but it's possible."

"What's going on, Harry?" Hermione asked. "What's happened?"

"Nothing," Harry replied defeatedly, "but it will. And we'll be too late to stop it."

"You're not even going to try?"

He stared back at her stonily. "It's too late, Hermione. Get dressed. We'll want to get a bite to eat before we go, as well."

* * *

The four of them Apparated just outside of Hogsmeade. Ginny refused to move until Harry was hidden safely under his Invisibility Cloak. After a short argument, he did as she asked and they began making their way toward Hogwarts. 

It was well past midnight, but there still was no hint of the sun along the horizon. There was no hint of the moon either. A dense blanket of clouds driven by a chilly breeze shrouded the land in thick shadows. Ginny tugged at her cloak, pulling it tighter around her to ward off the cold night air.

They had eaten a hurried breakfast, despite Harry's insistence that time was no concern. Now that they were on their way to Hogwarts, Ginny began to wonder just why Harry had so little interest in getting there earlier. He seemed certain that something bad had happened, but he refused to speak about it, telling them it would be better if they didn't have to explain how they knew about it.

Ginny was left with only one conclusion to make: something had happened to Miraphora Franklin. Hermione had been checking on her every day the last week. She appeared somewhat worse each day, but it was not progressing as quickly as it had the first two days. Still, there was only so much a young girl could take.

Had she died? How could Harry know that? If he did, it might explain his behavior. After a week of enduring whatever disease she'd been given, there would be little any of them could do to stop it. If she had gotten worse suddenly, it was possible that no one at Hogwarts even knew it was happening.

"How are we supposed to get in?" Ron asked quietly.

"I suspect we'll find the Aurors at the gates," Harry replied from somewhere behind them.

While Ginny and Hermione had been trying to understand what Harry wasn't telling them, Ron had focused on trying to help Harry in whatever way he could. He seemed to have been slightly shaken by the events of that night and had simply accepted that Harry knew what he was doing.

Ginny had been even more shaken. She hadn't found an opportunity to speak with Harry in private and tell him exactly what she'd seen and heard. There was still a battle in her mind over just whether she should tell him or not. If Miraphora was dead, hearing that the spectre had told her that her time would come would only drive Harry to do something dangerous. Of course, it might also prove to be valuable information. Ginny continued to struggle with the decision, knowing only that now was not the time to approach Harry.

As they came to the top of a small hill, the faint silhouette of Hogwarts could be seen against the hazy sky. A single light could be seen at the top of the Astronomy Tower, but the castle was otherwise dark. If something had happened, it didn't look like very many people knew about it.

"_Wands out!_" hissed Ron.

Ginny threw open her cloak and plunged her hand into her pocket. Hermione was fumbling with robes. Ron was staring off into the trees to the left of the path. "Black robes—" he whispered back to them, "—in the valley by that old stump, crossing toward the path."

Ginny looked down into the hollow between the hill they were just walking down and the last hill before reaching the main gate. There was a darker shape walking through the gloom. It appeared as though it had been hiding in the forest and had just stepped out as they came into view. As she watched, it neared the path and turned to begin walking toward them.

"Spread out," Ron whispered. "Keep your eyes on it and don't let it cast a spell."

As soon as Ginny turned to look back at the shape, she spotted tiny orange glow. It took her only a moment to recognize it as a wand. A second later, it rose slowly, then quickly slashed down and across the dark shape. Instinctively, she ducked and veered off to one side, ready to cast a shield charm in case she might spot some hex headed toward her.

"That's enough for me," commented Ron as he aimed his wand down the hill. "_Stup—_"

Ginny heard Ron swear loudly. Before she could ask what had happened, she felt her wand leap from her grasp. "Ron! The spare wands! Quick," she pleaded, but Ron had already dropped to the ground and opened the bag Harry had told them to pack.

"No, stop!" Harry called out from the darkness in front of them. "It's Josef. That was a sign the Brotherhood used to tell others that they were being watched." A disembodied hand appeared a moment later and returned Ginny's wand along with Ron's and Hermione's. The dark shape had paused halfway between the point they had spotted it and where they now stood. With a shrug, Ron turned and led them down the hill to meet it.

As they neared the wizard at the bottom of the hill, Ginny saw his wand begin to glow again. It was no longer orange, however. This time it was a soft bluish-white light which provided just enough light to allow Ginny to recognize the wizard under his hooded cloak.

"Good morning," Josef greeted them stiffly. He bowed slightly toward Ginny and smiled. "I must thank you for stopping your brother. I had no desire to discover what manner of hex he might have chosen to defend his sister and the woman he loves."

"Actually, Harry was the one who stopped us," Ginny replied sheepishly. "We didn't know it was you. We just saw something in black robes and— well, after what's happened we—"

"And what might that be?" he interrupted her. "What new fear do black robes hold for you?" Ginny looked away, hoping someone else might answer. When no one else did, Josef tries asking again: "Black is a surprisingly common color for robes in Britain. This seems a rather unfortunate phobia for you to develop suddenly. I am here to help you. If there is some reason, I would like to hear it."

Harry's voice cut though the night air in response: "If you're here to help us, then you must already know why we're here."

Josef's head dropped, then slowly raised again. Slowly, he reached up and pulled back the hood on his cloak. In the dim light of his wand, Josef's eyes were even brighter blue than they normally were. Placed against his pale face and nearly black hair, they seemed to glow faintly.

"Of course," he said wearily. "I had nearly forgotten. You are out of sight now, Harry. Remove your cloak, if you would. You know I hate speaking to you when you're wearing it."

Ginny felt the cloak brush against her shoulder as Harry removed it. He was now standing next to her and watching Josef with a cautious gaze. "Why are you here, Josef?" he asked again.

"The same reason you are here: something has happened at Hogwarts," he answered. "If I had to offer a guess, I would say another student has been attacked."

Ginny noticed Harry stiffen at the suggestion. "And how could you know that?"

"I have excellent sources of information."

"Do you?" Harry replied. "Are you mates with Rufus Scrimgeour now? Or have you been having midnight chats with Reynard?"

"Oh no," Josef chuckled, "my source is far more treacherous than either of them."

"Who is it? This is no time for secrets," demanded Harry. "Whoever gave you information about this might be the one responsible."

A faint smile appeared on Josef's face. "I'm afraid to say that looks to be a definite possibility."

Harry let out a long sigh and ran his hand through his hair. "I'm in no mood for your games, Josef."

"It's you, Harry," Josef replied with a wider smile. "You were the one who gave me the information."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "What? I haven't even seen you since the night you sent Kreacher to Hogwarts."

"No, but I've seen you. That is my job, after all. I have been watching you, Harry. Things like this don't simply stop. You can't expect me to believe that you'd tell me if something was happening, so I'm forced to wait for you to do something out of the ordinary.

"When I saw lights and movement in the Black house, I knew something was happening. I checked with a friend at your Ministry and she tells me that someone sent an urgent message to Auguste Reynard fifteen minutes ago. Of course, you had been awake for ten minutes before that. That sounds a little more pressing than the expected death of a terminally ill girl."

Harry frowned. "We'll see, won't we?"

* * *

When they reached the main gate to Hogwarts, they found four Aurors waiting for them with their wands drawn. Josef's warning had been genuine. Aurors on the Astronomy Tower had spotted them long ago and had come down to reinforce the main gate. 

They were questioned thoroughly. After a number of questions and accusations the Aurors were unable to formulate a suitable excuse to go back on the Headmistress's previous promise. They were even less willing to allow Ron and Josef to enter, but when faced with the alternative of calling even more Aurors out of the castle to guard four wizards who were certainly going to be welcomed by the Headmistress, they decided to allow all four of them to pass.

One pair of Aurors escorted them back to the castle while the other pair remained at the gate. Josef walked at Ginny's side at the back of the pack of wizards. He seemed to know just why she had held back. As she had hoped, once the gate was out of view, she felt a pair of quick taps on her upper back. Harry must have signaled Josef as well, because Ginny saw him frown and shake his head. Ginny gave him a questioning glance.

"It's a pointless risk," he whispered to her.

They arrived at the castle minutes later, but were forced to wait in the Entrance Hall while the Aurors fetched McGonagall to meet her uninvited guests. While they waited, Ginny thought she heard the sound of hushed voices coming from the Great Hall. She mentioned it to the others but they weren't able to figure out just whose voices they were. The doors to the Great Hall had been closed and locked.

"What in Merlin's name are you three doing here?" scolded Professor McGonagall as she climbed down the staircase to the Entrance Hall. "Leave! Now!" she ordered. "I don't know why you have come, but you must go. I will call for you when I have time to speak with you."

Josef ignored her and instead walked closer to the doors which led to the Great Hall. Hermione also stood firm against the Headmistresses demands. "You told us we would not be turned away from Hogwarts."

"Frankly, Miss Granger, I couldn't care less about what the Ministry thinks of me right now. Feel free to run back to Scrimgeour or that snake of a boss you have." She reached the foot of the stairs and paused to take a breath. "Forgive me," she apologized, "now is not the best time to speak. Come back this noon and I will be more accommodating."

"Something has happened," Ginny announced. "Something bad."

McGonagall let out a sigh and glared at her. "Thank you for the information, Miss Weasley, and as curious as I am about how you know about it, the simple fact that you do know this only serves to illustrate just why you must leave as quickly as you can."

"We don't know what happened," Ginny replied, "but we're here to help."

McGonagall walked closer to them and spoke in a quieter voice. "We can make do with the help we've got already," she said quickly. "I am not sending you away because I do not want you here. You must leave for your own safety. When the Ministry hears what has occurred here, they will suspect your involvement. If you are found here, I won't be able to protect you."

"Then there are no more options available," Josef said from his place near the large wooden doors. "Both hiding and revealing themselves will only increase the suspicion. The safest route now it to act as innocent wizards would."

"We are innocent," Ginny insisted.

"That's a fine start," Josef replied with a hint of a smile. "Next, we will want to learn as much as we can about what has happened here. Perhaps you could start with an explanation of why there are students on the other side of this door. I was under the impression that Hogwarts had somewhat better accommodations than this."

"It does," McGonagall replied sourly. "I assure you that any humor you find in this situation is most inappropriate. This is very serious and your friends may be in quite a bit of trouble."

"Why are we in danger?" Ron asked with a touch of nervousness.

"Because you are _here_, Mr. Weasley. Professor Flitwick still hasn't returned from Greece and Tonks and Weller haven't even finished waking up the other professors. We think Professor Lynch is somewhere in the forest searching for creatures for his next class. Rife and Rodgers were supposed to be on duty, but no one can find them. The castle is in chaos. We haven't even had the time to figure out just what has happened, much less send word to _London_," she said, pronouncing the last word quite sharply. "Why have you come here? How could you have known anything had happened?"

Ginny, Ron, and Hermione exchanged confused glances. What were they supposed to say? Why hadn't they thought about this before they arrived?

"Well?" prompted McGonagall, sounding once again like a stern professor.

"I, er—" started Ginny. She looked to Ron and Hermione for help. Ron rubbed the bridge of his nose and began inspecting the floor. Hermione simply stared back at her and shrugged. "I... had a dream," Ginny finally replied.

"A dream?" McGonagall glared at her doubtfully. "A dream," she repeated. "Yes, I'm certain the Ministry will find that quite interesting when they arrive. How many other times have you tried to warn others of danger after having a _dream_? This is the first time I can remember, yet you used to have a nightmare almost every night."

From his place by the door, Josef spun around to look at Ginny. He had a surprised and sympathetic look on his face. Ginny felt herself blushing and turned away.

"And what about you two?" McGonagall said, rounding on Ron and Hermione. "I don't suppose either of you have been consulting a crystal ball, have you? I know Miss Granger is particularly fond of them." Hermione and Ron both stood silently, looking very much like scolded students.

"I told them," announced Josef. Ginny looked up and found him still staring at her with the same expression of concern. "Don't be upset with Ginny. She's just trying to protect me."

The Headmistress surveyed him cautiously. "And how did you learn of this? I have known for only fifteen minutes, yet the four of you had time to pack a bag and walk here from Hogsmeade?"

"I have... well connected friends," Josef replied confidently. "Someone sent a message to Auguste Reynard. I'm afraid he may have known what happened before you did."

"Well at least someone knows what is going on. Until he arrives, perhaps you could educate me about what else has happened inside my school."

Josef frowned. "Ginny was right. We don't really know what happened. I know only that a message was sent from Hogwarts to Mr. Reynard, who happened to be staying late at his office in the Department of Mysteries. Now, to return to my previous question: Why have the students been moved from their dormitories? Surely they are protected by far better wards and charms than the hall behind me."

"I would have agreed with you before tonight," McGonagall replied with a frown, "and as far as I can tell, the wards are still in place and functioning as well as they have been for years. It's as if..." Her voice trailed off as she turned to look back toward the stairs. She took off her glasses, rubbed her eyes, and spoke in a weary voice: "I wish Albus were here. He would know what to do." When McGonagall's eyes opened Ginny could see fear in them.

"What happened?" she asked gently.

"Another student..." she began slowly. "A student was attacked. In his dormitory. He's been taken to the Hospital Wing but..."

"He wasn't in the corridors?" asked Ginny. "When I had the Diary all the attacks happened in the corridors. Are you certain he didn't walk back—"

"Yes, quite certain," McGonagall assured her. "There is a painting guarding the entrance to Ravenclaw Tower much like Gryffindor Tower. No one had entered or left for hours before the attack."

Slowly, the Headmistress began explaining the little information they had discovered in the last few minutes. The boy, apparently a sixth-year Ravenclaw, had woken up a few of his house mates when he tumbled out of bed. After laughing at him for a moment, they realized something wasn't right, but couldn't wake him. With Professor Flitwick away, they sent out a number of students looking for anyone they could find.

Valencia had been the first one they found. She had immediately followed the students back to Ravenclaw Tower where she sent messages to both McGonagall and the Aurors patrolling the castle, Rodgers and Rife. The Aurors still hadn't been found, but McGonagall had been able to wake all the others.

The boy who'd been attacked had been taken to the Hospital Wing by Valencia. McGonagall wasn't willing to say much more about him beyond telling them that he looked worse than Miraphora had. The unspoken association of the two students confirmed Ginny's fears that the two attacks were related.

"Was there a... a message," Ginny asked hesitantly.

"No," replied the Headmistress. "There was nothing at all. The door to the room hadn't even been opened."

"Can you show us where it happened?" asked Hermione.

"No," McGonagall replied in an annoyed tone. "This is not a museum, Miss Granger. This is a school where a young witch and wizard have been attacked. The attacker might still be in Ravenclaw Tower. We've moved all of the Ravenclaws to the Great Hall. We started moving the Gryffindors, but we stopped when a few of them reported seeing a wizard in a dark cloak at the end of one of the corridors. We sent—"

"A dark cloak?" interrupted Ginny. "You mean, a _black_ cloak, with a hood?"

"I couldn't say," McGonagall answered suspiciously. "I didn't see it. I had sent Ian and Zoe to search for it, but they were called away when you showed up. If you know something, I would be very interested to hear it."

Ginny gave a quick glance to Ron and Hermione. They were obviously thinking the same thing: The events at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place weren't a coincidence. They had been a warning of some sort.

"Where is Lupin?" Ginny asked quietly. "We need to talk to him."

* * *

Harry walked quietly behind the five of them. Six months ago he'd paid an extra thirty Galleons to have some old witch in Istanbul cast a series of permanent Muffling Charms on the boots he was wearing. While it had done nothing to make them any more comfortable than they were, it did allow him to walk normally while being quite confident that no one would be able to hear him. 

"Relax, Remus, there's no danger," a soft voice echoed.

Harry craned his neck around Ron to see Remus Lupin standing by the door to the Hospital Wing. The door had a small window in it again, and Valencia Desmoda's face was peering through it.

"If there was no risk, Poppy and that bloke from St. Mungo's would be in there with you."

Valencia smiled at him. "Trust me, Remus. I promise you I will be fine. Madam Pomfrey is convinced the disease does not spread normally. There is nothing they can do to me."

"Then let me come with you," Lupin argued.

A fresh smile spread across Valencia's face as her eyes turned to look directly at Harry. "That's very kind of you," she said, "but it seems you have visitors."

Lupin spun around quickly and gave a little jump as he saw the group of people McGonagall had brought to the Hospital Wing. "Why did you bring _them_?" he asked her sharply.

McGonagall returned a cold stare. "I didn't," she replied stiffly. "No one did. They just... arrived."

"Why are you here?" Lupin asked. Though Hermione was the closest to him, he was staring directly at Ginny.

"We knew something bad happened," she answered.

Lupin's face was frozen and expressionless. "There's no way you could know that. We haven't told anyone. There are professors who still don't know what's happened. Where did you hear about it? Hogsmeade?"

McGonagall answered for Ginny: "Mr. Kantos claims he heard about it from an acquaintance at the Ministry."

"Well I'm afraid Mr. Kantos is lying," Lupin replied flatly. "While I would be interested in hearing just who this wizard at the Ministry was, I doubt it matters. Even if he himself had attacked the boy, he could not have left the castle and had enough time to bring the three of them here from London." He stepped forward to lift a few wavy locks of hair from Hermione's shoulder. "You are a talented and beautiful witch, Hermione, but we both know that it takes quite a few charms to make your hair look like this. I can't see how you could get here unless you started casting them _before_ the attack even occurred."

Hermione froze and turned cast a pleading glance toward Josef. He was unprepared for this sort of interrogation, and could only shrug.

"I don't know how you might have learned about the attack," Lupin continued slowly. "To be honest, it's probably best if I don't know. You shouldn't be here. You need to leave right now. We can't hide this from the Ministry. If Mr. Kantos is being honest, they already know. We need Aurors to help us search the castle, and someone from the Ministry will need to find the boy's family. With his father dead, I don't know just who will need to be told."

"His father was attacked too?" asked Ron.

"No one really knows, but the Ministry seemed to think—" Lupin began, then paused suddenly and turned toward Ginny. "You already know this," he said, interrupting himself. "Harrington said you were the first one to confirm it."

"No, I don't remember anything about any deaths," she said with uncertainty. "The only death I've heard about since I came back from Romania was—" Her voice stopped abruptly. Even as she spoke, a frightening explanation assembled itself in Harry's mind. Apparently Ginny had reached the same conclusion.

"Who was attacked?" she asked urgently. "What is his name?"

Lupin glared at the Headmistress. "You didn't tell them who it was?"

"I thought it would be best if they didn't know," McGonagall argued. "They refused to leave. The Aurors are going to want to speak with them. If they know too much—"

"They already know too much," Lupin said, throwing up his arms in frustration. "If they knew who it was, they might understand the danger they're in." Lupin put his hands on his hips and began pacing back and forth across the corridor. After a few moments, he paused and looked at Ginny again.

"The boy in the Hospital Wing," he said in a tired voice, "is Marius Lipton."

Lupin didn't have to explain why this was a problem. After being questioned repeatedly, Marius had become rather angry at all of the unwanted attention he was receiving. Hermione had told the rest of them that he would scowl at her if he ever saw her. He had told quite a few other students that she and Ginny disliked him and wanted to blame him for the attacks to cover up their own involvement.

The truth was that all of Harry's friends were under just as much suspicion as Marius had been. Now that Marius was lying in the Hospital Wing it would be hard to claim that he was the wizard behind the attacks. That would leave Ron, Hermione and Ginny as the only remaining suspects. It wouldn't take much for the Aurors to start wondering if Marius had been attacked so that he stopped talking about Ginny and Hermione.

"You need to leave before the Aurors arrive," Lupin repeated. "If Mr. Lipton dies while you're here—"

"Wait," interrupted Ron. "Why would you think he might die? That girl's been here for a week and she's still alive."

"He's worse," announced Valencia from the other side of the door. "It's progressing much faster than it ever did with Miss Franklin. He's already in worse shape than she is."

Hermione tried to complain. "That's not possible," she said with a shaky voice. "You said you had only known for fifteen minutes. He couldn't have been attacked much before that. Whatever it is that is causing this simply doesn't work that fast. Winston Fulbright wasn't even unconscious when they brought him to St. Mungo's."

"Maybe whoever is doing this is getting better at it," suggested Ron.

"Or stronger," added Lupin. "Perhaps the Healers at St. Mungo's will have some way to tell just what the difference is." Ginny and Hermione simultaneously reacted to this news. "With this second victim we can prove that either it's caused by some sort of curse or poison or that it spread through some way that even a quarantine cannot stop. Pomfrey and that bloke from St. Mungo's have both left to speak with the other Healers. They want to move the two of them as quickly as they can."

"They left them _alone_?" replied Hermione.

Lupin frowned and glanced over at Valencia. He began explaining that despite the fact that they were confident they would not spread whatever disease Miraphora and Marius had, there were still significant issues with exposing them to the general population of wizards.

The most worrisome issue was the fact that Miraphora could still be heard whispering when not being watched closely. Madam Pomfrey reported fewer incidents of having thoughts appear in her mind, but not enough to make her feel comfortable. She had recently taken to having Flitwick or Lupin cast Locking Charms on the door to the Hospital Wing during the night. It was not to keep others out, but to see that she didn't try to walk out without knowing what she was doing.

"She never threatened anyone, Remus," Valencia commented. "We don't even know that she knows what she's doing."

"Maybe Miraphora doesn't," Lupin admitted, "but Poppy didn't leave because she enjoys the art at St. Mungo's. It's _him_ she's worried about. She said she didn't feel right around him. Miraphora has always been kind and helpful. Marius is a good wizard, but he's been very angry lately. I don't trust him like this."

"Neither do I," Valencia responded, "but Pomfrey didn't even check him. If he does die or if the Healers at St. Mungo's lock him away and it progresses too far before they let us see him, we might never know for certain."

"Know what?" Ginny asked.

"What happened to him, of course," the pale librarian replied. "We don't know where his curse scar is, only that it's not on his forehead. She said that he was doing worse, but we don't know what that means. It might be nothing more than her feeling all of his anger. St. Mungo's will only look for a cure or a way to protect everyone else from them. They're not going to try to find out _why_ this happened. _We_ have to do that," she added, looking directly at Hermione.

"She's right," Hermione said. "We need to look at him before the Ministry gets involved. If we don't they'll cover it up before we have a chance to figure out what's happened."

Lupin attempted to protest, but there was little he could argue about. Technically, Hermione still had the Ministry's authority to investigate the attacks, and not even McGonagall could refuse her entry into the Hospital Wing. Ginny had lesser authority, but not so little that Lupin had any power to prevent her from joining Hermione, and it would have been foolish to attempt to prevent Ron from joining the two of them.

"Not him, though," Lupin said when Josef took a step toward the door. "I'm certain you are a noble and honorable man, but I don't trust you just yet. I don't even know why the Aurors let you past the gates."

Josef paused and turned to face Lupin. "My name is Josef Kantos. I am an emissary from the Ministry of Romania. I carry the trust and authority of Minister Debreczeni. That should be enough for this situation."

"Of course," Lupin replied with a nod, "if this concerns Romania then I would be very interested to hear just how."

Josef gave him a stiff smile which Harry easily recognized as a sign of growing annoyance. "Ginny is the Liaison to my ministry. Her safety is of paramount importance to us and I have been entrusted to protect her from any danger." He stepped closer to Lupin and lowered his voice so that Harry could barely hear it: "She is also my friend and I would give my life to save her from any peril."

"That will be sufficient, Mr. Kantos," announced Professor McGonagall. "Even if Remus does not trust you, I will —for now. Remus and I have no more time to stand about debating this matter while a dark wizard may be prowling the corridors."

"I think I'll remain here until they are done," Lupin replied. "I believe the most likely place to find the... visitor will be wherever Ginny is."

This seemed to annoy McGonagall. "And if you are correct, then I would rather Miss Weasley were not here at all. Let them check on Mr. Lipton and leave as quickly as they arrived. Valencia, I trust you will see them out?"

Valencia gave her a quick nod.

"Very well, we must go, Remus," she announced. "If Mr. Kantos is as trustworthy as Ferdinand Harrington claims, then I suggest you choose speed over thoroughness. I fear we will receive help far quicker than we should have expected." With that, McGonagall left with Lupin following close behind her. As they turned the corner, Harry caught him glancing back at them suspiciously.

"What's with him?" Ron mumbled as they disappeared.

"He still thinks that Harry in involved," answered Hermione.

"It'll get worse," commented Valencia. "Anyone who might have had the idea before will only see more evidence with this latest attack. Marius despised you. This attack, it will only look like some sort of revenge."

Hermione frowned. "We better move quickly then."

With a faint creaking noise, the door to the Hospital Wing swung open. Hermione and Ron were the first to walk through. Next was Josef, walking calmly and casually as though he were visiting the house of an old friend. Ginny hesitated for an instant, then slowly stepped through as well. As Harry followed her, he found Valencia watching him closely, but giving no other sign that she saw him.

"Perhaps we should leave the door open this time," Ginny suggested as soon as she was fully inside the hall.

Valencia, still keeping her eyes directly on Harry, smiled and replied, "I think not. We will want all the privacy we can get."

Ginny watched in confusion as Valencia waited patiently for Harry to walk through the door. Once he was through, she closed the door softly then turned and began walking briskly to catch up with the others. With a slight frown, Ginny followed her.

As he'd done before, Harry walked behind the rest of them and off to one side of the room. The entire hall was dark, and he could only barely see the dim shapes of beds lined up along the walls. Ahead of him, they came to an abrupt stop. Ron and the others were already there.

"They're gone!" he nearly shouted. "How did they—"

"They're not gone," hissed Valencia. "We moved them to a smaller room. We wanted to get them farther from the corridor. Follow me and watch your step. Madam Pomfrey was in a hurry to leave."

Harry increased his pace to keep up with her. They walked to the far end of the room and walked through another doorway and into a narrow stone corridor. For a moment, Harry felt a chill spreading down his spine. The corridor looked familiar. He stopped a moment to inspect the walls and found that they really weren't all that similar to the stone walls in his dream. However, there was still something odd. The corridor was lit by a number of torches, but they didn't seem to be able to chase off all of the darkness.

Ahead of him, Ron and Hermione had come to the end of the corridor. "They're in there?" Hermione asked Valencia, pointing to the large wooden door in front of them.

"No," Ron answered weakly, "they're in there." He slowly pointed toward a smaller door to their right.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "How do you know that?"

"How couldn't I?" Ron replied as if it were completely obvious. "Can't you feel it?"

"Feel what?"

Ron shook his head. "I don't know what it is, but I know why Pomfrey left in a hurry. This isn't natural."

"It's nothing, Ron," Hermione told him dismissively. "This is an old castle. Some parts of it get a little stuffy, that's all."

"I wish that were true," Valencia said as she stepped forward. She motioned for Josef to join her, and after tapping the handle of the door with her wand she turned to address the others. "Remember: we have work to do. There is nothing in this room which can hurt you. Keep your mind focused and you shouldn't have any problems."

When she opened the door, Harry felt a warm draft flowing from the doorway. Slowly, everyone filed into the room with Josef taking the lead and Valencia walking in just before Ginny. This time she allowed the door to the corridor to remain open.

"What is this place?" Ron asked as he stepped further into the murky darkness of the room.

"It's an old work room," Valencia explained. "Though it may be difficult to believe, young boys and girls have been snapping their bones for centuries, but Skele-Gro has only been around for seventy years at most. Before then, rooms like this were used to make the potions needed to repair careless students."

"I don't like this," Ron said. "I don't care what it was used for. It feels like a crypt, only... worse."

Harry knew what Ron meant. The torches which had been struggling to light the corridor had completely failed to provide any more light than one might expect from a simple candle. The room itself felt as though it were filled with a thick dark haze which seemed to swallow both light and sound.

A cone of white light stabbed through the darkness. Valencia had lit her wand as she was searching the walls for something. After a few seconds, the light disappeared and was quickly replaced with a flash of yellow as a number of old lamps burst to life around the room.

The lamps succeeded where the torches outside had failed, but it hardly made the room feel any more comfortable. If anything, the soft golden light made Harry even more aware of the abnormally warm air inside the room. It was thick and hot but not at all wet or musty like other parts of the castle. Everyone could feel it.

"Is it always this bloody hot in here?"

"No, it wasn't earlier," Valencia replied. "Take off your robes if you like. I don't know how long this will take."

Ron took off his cloak and robes and hung them on hooks conveniently close to the door. He took a moment to straighten the shirt he'd been wearing underneath it. Despite his efforts, it remained terribly wrinkled. After a moment of indecision, Hermione also removed her robes. Her shirt was simple and not at all formal, but also did not appear as though it had been dragged from the bottom of a trunk minutes earlier. Ginny hung up her cloak, but left her robes on and Josef walked past the hooks without paying any attention to them.

Even with the room lit, it hardly looked much better than Ron's description. The walls were bare stone with occasional rough holes or notches cut into them. Most of the shelves which had been created to hold supplies had since been removed, leaving only a single dusty cabinet and a pair of shelves near the door holding up a few dusty jars and bottles. The floor was smooth but uncovered, leaving a number of scorched patches of stone visible where fires had probably been used to boil large cauldrons of various potions.

Against this backdrop, the pair of beds with their patients looked rather out of place. Miraphora, with her bright red hair almost glowing against her pale, greying skin, was in a bed along the near wall. Another bed was placed against the far wall but its occupant was nearly unidentifiable.

Harry knew it had to be Marius Lipton, but the boy lying in the bed shared little resemblance to the prefect Ginny and Hermione had questioned nearly a week ago. From across the room, Harry could see Marius had the same pale, grotesquely veined skin that he had seen on Miraphora, though his skin was much greyer, and was glistening slightly with beads of sweat. The sheets of his bed had been folded down at his stomach to reveal dark red pajamas which matched the dark rings around his eyes.

Harry slowly crept off toward one of the empty walls so he would not have to worry about anyone accidentally bumping into him as they walked about. In the back of his mind was the more troubling memory of the last time he saw Miraphora. If the same thing started happening again, he would want to have a clear path to the door.

Valencia walked toward Marius, but stopped well before reaching the foot of his bed. Ron and Hermione trailed behind her, staring at Marius in his bed. Ginny had walked off toward Miraphora instead, with Josef shadowing her silently.

"Bloody hell," whispered Ron. "This happened in less than an hour? Are they sure he's still alive?"

"He's alive," Valencia replied, "though perhaps that is no longer good news."

As Harry looked from Marius to Miraphora, he realized that Valencia had been right. Marius already looked worse than Miraphora did. Compared to him, even Miraphora's skin seemed to have color. Ginny seemed to notice the same thing, and she was now taking a closer look at one of the girl's hands.

"She's getting better," she announced.

"Right," Ron snorted, "by comparison, maybe."

"No, I'm sure of it," Ginny replied. "She's getting better. Her fingernails aren't purple anymore. They're just a deep pink. The skin on her hands even seems to be getting some of its color back."

Behind her, Josef was content to observe the girl from a distance. He said nothing, just simply stared at the girl with an expression of bewildered shock. Harry realized that this was the first time he had seen her.

"That would be good news," Valencia replied. "However, I don't think he has a week of life in him. Perhaps something can be done to speed the process."

"Why is he so much worse than her?" asked Ron.

"I don't know. Perhaps you were correct and the attacker has become better. Curses this strong need practice. We also do not know where his scar is. Fulbright's scar was on his hand and the effects seemed milder than those Miraphora is suffering. When we find Marius's scar, perhaps the location will help us understand how it works."

"Why didn't you look for it earlier?" Hermione asked.

"There was no time. By time I returned, every student in Ravenclaw tower was awake and ready to panic at the first hint of danger," Valencia explained. "I had an unconscious boy in pajamas lying on the floor of the dormitory. The scar wasn't on his hands or face. I didn't have time to look. It was already starting."

"What was starting?" Ginny asked from across the room.

"The whispering," Valencia answered. "It's there if you stop to listen to it, but I would caution you not to. That's why you all feel tense. I wanted to look for the scar, but one of the other boys started complaining about a horrible headache. The risk of delaying was too great. I had to bring him here."

"So where do you think it is?" Ron asked.

"If I had to guess, I would say it is on his chest or stomach, though it would tell us quite a bit if it were on his back."

Ron and Hermione stood silently, as though waiting for Valencia to make some move. When she didn't, Ron was the first to ask why.

"I am only a librarian," she replied. "I am under enough suspicion as it is. I was the one the students found awake at this hour. I was the one who brought him here. Remus was right. It is dangerous for me to be here, but for me the danger is from the Ministry, not these two students. If you had not arrived, I would have done it myself, but I think we will all be safer if he is inspected by a Ministry employee."

Hermione and Ginny immediately exchanged glances. Ginny took a step toward Hermione, but Josef quickly grabbed her shoulder and stopped her. "Not Ginny," he said firmly. "I am sorry Miss Granger. I think it would be best if Ginny kept her distance."

"Very well," Hermione said with a sigh. Hesitantly, she walked closer to the side of the bed. She knelt down next to him and inspected his arm and neck closely. "I'm pretty sure it's on his chest," she announced. "His skin is much more discolored in the front." She rubbed her eyes and took a deep breath. "We need to be sure, though."

Hermione frowned in disgust, but began reaching for the boy's shirt. Slowly, she slipped the top button free of its hole and folded back the thin shirt. She moved on to the next button, and then the next, exposing more and more of his chest as he went. After the last button had been undone, she carefully and gently pulled the shirt open to reveal his bare chest. When she was done, she turned away, covering her mouth with her hand.

"What is it?" Ron asked as he jumped to his feet.

"His chest," she whispered. "The scar is on his chest. It's— It's really bad."

Ron took a step forward, but stopped suddenly and shook his head slightly as though he had suddenly become dizzy. He took a pair of unsteady steps backward and pressed his hands into his eyes. When he pulled them away, Harry could see him squinting in pain. "Get away from him, Hermione!" Ron shouted. "He's knows we're here. It's not—"

Suddenly, Marius's eyes opened to reveal their inky black color. Hermione let out a short gasp as she looked over and saw him staring at her. She stood up quickly and tried to back away. Before she could take a single step, Marius's arm shot out and clamped down tightly on her arm, pressing a darkened thumb into the crook of her elbow.

Hermione let out a pained scream and grabbed onto her own arm in an attempt to wrench it out of Marius's grip. Ron tried to run forward, but he staggered and dropped to his knees, holding his head. Ginny had run forward in an attempt to help both of them, but Josef quickly grabbed her and held her back. He strode toward Hermione instead and began trying to pry back the boy's fingers.

Valencia had pulled out her wand and was taking aim at the boy's chest. She shouted some word Harry didn't understand and a jet of red light shot from the end of her wand into Marius's chest. His arm slackened and for a moment it looked as though he would let go. After only a second, his body tensed and he jerked her even closer.

Hermione let out another scream and tugged mercilessly at her arm, breaking Josef's grip on Marius's fingers. "No!" she wailed in panic. Harry looked down at her elbow and saw a deep bruise forming where Marius was squeezing it. She gave another vicious tug, followed by another scream. "No, no, no, no..." she began repeating as she stared down at her elbow.

With a nauseating wave of realization, Harry watched the bruise on Hermione's arm grow. It was not a bruise at all. Her skin was turning a dark grey, and it was spreading up and down her arm. She let out a helpless wail as the first streaks climbed up her arm to her shoulder.

There was no more time to waste. Harry wouldn't let it go on any longer. He had been taught how to kill wizards with magic. He hated it and avoided it whenever possible, but it was worth the chance to keep Hermione from ending up like Miraphora. He pulled his wand from his pocket and began walking quickly toward Hermione.

"No, Harry!" Valencia shouted. "Stay back!"

Harry froze instinctively and the noise in the room seemed to vanish. Even Hermione looked up to stare at Valencia in surprise. The only person who had not reacted was Josef. His arms were twisted around Marius's wrist and he was pulling with all of his strength. Harry wanted to rush forward and help, but Valencia was still staring at him and holding her hand out to command him to stay where he was. A sickening _crack_ echoed through the room.

"Pull!" Josef shouted.

Hermione woke up from her shock and did as he commanded. With one last tug, her arm sprung free of Marius's grasp, sending her tumbling to the ground. Just as quickly as it had struck, Marius's arm fell dropped to hang limp off the side of the bed.

Hermione pushed herself away from the bed until she had backed herself against the wall not far from Harry. She held her arm straight and well away from her body as though trying to put as much distance between it and the rest of her. Valencia rushed to her side, apologizing desperately.

"It's my fault," she scolded herself. "I should have done it myself instead of hiding behind you like a coward."

Josef knelt down next to Valencia and began looking at the dark patch on Hermione's arm. "Does it hurt at all?" he asked.

Hermione shook her head. "Only where he was gripping it."

"Is there any other pain? In your fingers or chest or—"

"My shoulder and my head, but it's getting better," she whispered. Josef pushed she short sleeve of Hermione's shirt up to reveal her shoulder. It was red looked a little swollen, but the black streaks had not reached it.

"Josef!" gasped Ginny. "Look at your hands!"

The palms of Josef's hands were blackened as if covered with soot. He quickly jerked them away from Hermione's shoulder and buried them in his pockets.

"Are you alright?"

"I'll be fine. Worry about Miss Granger," he replied stiffly. He stood up and walked back toward the center of the room and faced Harry's general direction.

"Take off your Cloak, Harry. We could use some help," he declared. "It seems the only person we thought you were hiding from was the only one who knew where you were."

Slowly, Harry pulled off his cloak. Everyone looked at him, then exchanged uncertain glances as they checked to see that no one was truly surprised. Harry rolled up the cloak and sat it next to the door. The idea of keeping himself hidden was no longer the most important concern in his mind.

"You can see through Invisibility Cloaks?" Josef asked Valencia. She nodded silently as she continued to inspect the mark on Hermione's arm. "And you knew she could?" he asked Harry. Harry nodded as well. "And why wouldn't you tell us this information?"

From the corner of his eye, he saw Valencia pause to look at him, but he tried not to look back. "Prudence," he answered, remembering all the times that Josef had used the same word to describe his own actions. "The fewer people who knew about it the safer everyone would be."

Josef frowned. "You're lying, Harry, but at least you're learning." He shook his head and returned to Hermione while trying to dodge Ginny's attempts to inspect his hands. Hermione was still breathing in quick, shallow gasps and the color was slowly draining from her face.

"Here, drink this," Valencia said, handing Hermione a small bottle of a golden liquid.

"What is that?" Josef asked sharply. It was too late, though. Hermione quickly drained the thin potion and let the bottle fall the floor next to her.

"It was just something to calm her," Valencia explained. "It's very mild. There's nothing to worry about."

Josef glared at her for a moment. "You're one of the new professors, then?" he asked. "Potions, is it?"

"No," she replied quickly. "I buy most of my potions and I'm not a professor. I am just the librarian."

"Ah yes, the librarian," Josef replied. He tapped his wand against the stone floor, making it glow a deep red, then passed it over the large mark on Hermione's arm a few times. "Ginny was very complimentary about you. Forgive me, but I had expected you would be much older. What did you say your name was —your full name?"

Harry watched in confusion as Valencia and Josef stared at each other.

"Valencia Desmoda," she answered.

"And you came here from Spain?" he asked lightly.

"Yes," she replied. "This is hardly the time for us to—"

"You're correct," he interrupted. "Hermione seems to have absorbed something from Mr. Lipton. I have no idea what it is, though this is not my specialty. We should consider finding someone with more skill in this area, and I should think that the farther they are from here the better it will be. If her condition changes, I think this room is the last place we'll want to be."

Hermione blinked her eyes a few times and let out a deep breath. "I feel fine, really," she announced, surprising everyone in the room. "I mean, my head is a little cloudy and I..." Her voice trailed off a bit as she began looking around the room. "Does anyone have a quill?" she asked.

"A quill?" Harry asked he looked around. "What do you need a quill for?"

Hermione's eyes searched the ceiling. "I don't really know. I feel as though there's something I've forgotten. Maybe if I could write it down, I would remember what it was."

"Not here," Josef replied firmly. "We need to leave. Come on," he encouraged her as he pulled her to her feet. "I'll just help you walk. You might be a little weak. Ron, if you would be so kind—"

Before he could finish the request, Ron was standing at the other side of Hermione and pulling her injured arm around his shoulders. Harry ran to the hooks by the door and quickly collected the robes and cloaks before pulling the door open a little wider to help the three of them through. When he turned back, he saw Hermione wincing as Ron and Josef helped her make her way toward the door.

"What is it, Hermione?" Ron asked worriedly.

"I just need a quill," she answered through clenched teeth.

"We'll get you a quill as soon as we're out of the Hospital Wing," Ron replied. He and Josef helped her take a few more steps, but she quickly collapsed with a faint shriek.

Her voice was faint and shaky: "Just... quill... I'll remember, I— I swear."

Josef told Ron to pick her up and he did without any hesitation. However, he was able to take only a single step before Hermione cried out in pain again. Josef ordered him to ignore it, but with each step, her cries became louder and more tortured. By the time he reached the doorway, she was shaking in agony. He stopped and took a single step backward. Immediately, her body relaxed and she stopped screaming.

"I can't do it," Ron said in a heavy voice. "It's killing her."

Josef frowned and urged Ron forward. Harry could understand why it was easier for him. Hermione wasn't his friend. Harry rushed back to Ron and looked into Hermione's bloodshot eyes.

"What hurts, Hermione?" he asked in a soft voice. "What's causing it?"

"I just... quill... have to remember..."

Harry looked over Ron's shoulder to the bed where Marius Lipton was lying. His shirt was open and his arm was still hanging lifelessly over the side of the bed, but now he was smiling.

"Give her a quill," Harry ordered. "Now."

"She's delusional, Harry!" argued Josef, but no one seemed to pay any attention to him. Ron gently sat her down on the floor, and began scouring the area around Miraphora's bed for a quill. Harry rifled through the robes and cloaks, as Josef kneeled down next to Hermione. Valencia had simply disappeared.

"She can't breathe," warned Josef after less than a minute. Harry turned around to find Hermione's face turning a disturbingly blue color.

"Move her closer to Marius," Harry commanded him. When he was slow to respond, Harry grabbed Hermione and dragged her halfway across the room. She coughed loudly and began taking in deep, gasping breaths.

"Where did that librarian go?" Josef asked. "Why did she run off?"

"I didn't," Valencia announced from the doorway. "I was doing as Harry said." In her hand was a small ink well and a large quill made from a bright blue feather. She strode across the room and handed them to Hermione. Hermione relaxed and began breathing easier the moment they touched her hand.

She carefully pushed herself up into a sitting position and began rubbing her forehead with one hand. The other was clutching the quill as if letting go would put her in mortal danger. She blinked a few tears from her eyes and looked up at Ron and Harry. "Parchment..." she said in a raspy tone.

Josef began protesting, but Harry stopped him with a glare. "_Find parchment,_" he snapped. Whatever was happening to Hermione, Marius Lipton was the cause. He wouldn't let her leave. He didn't know whether he was helping Hermione or Marius, but it seemed the only thing they could do.

Valencia dashed out the door again, saying that there was a good supply of parchment in Madam Pomfrey's office. Harry searched the room a second time, hoping to turn up some piece of parchment he might have missed when he was looking for a quill.

"Find _something._" Hermione said in a strained voice. "I don't care what it is... I'll write on my own bloody arm if that's what it takes to make the pain stop."

Ron was searching under Miraphora's bed, when he suddenly stood up and ran across the room. He snatched a large glass jar from one of the shelves and ripped off the label that had been wrapped around it. When he gave it to Hermione, she was already starting to look faint again. Valencia returned just as Hermione was leaning forward to dip the quill in the ink well. She had a roll of parchment in her hand, but said nothing and strode forward to watch Hermione.

Hermione put the tip of the quill on the discolored parchment, and began dragging it across the warped surface slowly. Everyone watched silently as the first letters took shape. The first letter was very shaky, but identifiable as an _A_. The next was a little smoother, and then a second word appeared:

_An end_

Hermione's head drooped for a moment, and a small puddle of ink formed at the end of the last letter.

"An end?" Ron read aloud. "And end to what? To the attacks?"

Even as Harry read the words, he heard a soft whisper coming from behind him. Everyone turned to see where it came from and found Marius sitting upright in his bed, staring directly at Harry with glossy black eyes. When Harry looked back at Hermione, she too was staring at him. As Marius began hissing in Parseltongue, Hermione furiously scratched words into the rough parchment without taking her eyes off Harry. Ron, Valencia and Josef leaned close to read them, but Harry didn't need to. His mind was already translating what Marius was saying:

_An end to life which never began  
A start to an age which will see no end  
A scar for a wound which long ago healed  
A return of a gift never given_

As she reached the end of the final word, her eyes rolled back into her head and she collapsed limply onto the floor. Ron dove forward to try and pick her up. He pulled her into his arms and glared at Harry.

"What's happening to her?" he asked sharply. "That message was meant for _you_. It's not the first time you've seen it. What does it mean?"

"I don't know," Harry replied. "I— I don't..." He tried to continue, but bright flashes of light began to dot his vision. Until he tried to stand, he didn't realize just how much his head was hurting. The chanting was beginning again, echoing inside Harry's mind. The floor shuddered and he watched in horror as a thick oily vapor began rolling out from under the sheets on Marius's bed.

Ron had obviously had enough. He carried Hermione across the room, but when he approached the door, it slammed shut tightly. Hermione's body shuddered and Ron struggled to keep her in his arms.

"Harry!" he shouted. "Do something!"

Josef stepped forward and aimed his wand at the door. The sound of splintering wood filled the room, but the door didn't move. It was cracked and broken in a dozen places, but each jagged crag was instantly filled with a soft orange glow. Harry threw his shoulder against the door, but it refused to budge.

A new sound cut through the hissing chant that had filled the room: "You must go," a girl's voice pleaded. He whirled about to see Miraphora sitting up in her bed as well. She had her eyes closed tightly and both her hands were pressed against the side of her head. The chanting grew even louder and she gasped in pain.

"No!" she wailed. "Let them go!"

Her shout lengthened into a shrill scream which quickly became so loud that Harry covered his ears to protect them from the piercing sound. Then, with a blinding flash of light and a roar of flame, all of the lamps around the room burst into pillars of flame and sparks.

Harry felt a ringing emptiness in his ears. For a moment, he thought he'd gone deaf, but he found he could still hear the sound of the crackling fires from the locations where the lamps had once been. Next to him, the door stopped glowing and the broken pieces tumbled to the floor.

Ron was the first out the door, followed by Valencia and Harry. Ginny was standing just inside the room blocking the doorway. Josef tried to push her through, but she twisted free and drew her wand on him.

"No! We can't leave her here with him!" Ginny shouted. "She's awake. She helped us. I won't leave her!"

Without saying a thing, Harry nodded and dashed back into the room. He ripped back the sheets and lifted the young girl from her bed. Her body was light and relaxed, but not limp or lifeless. As Harry walked back out of the room, Josef collected their belongings and escorted Ginny out in front of him.

Harry walked as quickly as he could, but Ron was too quick. Harry followed Josef's lead back to the main hall of the Hospital Wing. When he arrived, he found Valencia standing at the door with her wand out. Ron was standing next to her, propping up a rather unsteady looking Hermione.

"Look, Harry," he said, pointing at the inside of Hermione's elbow. "Whatever she did, it worked."

Hermione was not totally alert, but she was conscious. As Harry walked closer, he saw the dark patch on Hermione's skin was fading. Wisps of dark smoke seemed to be peeling themselves away from her arm and floating airily down to the floor.

Beside Harry, Josef had looked down at his hands to see a very similar effect. "I would say that I am relieved, but I'm afraid I have little love for mysterious situations with even more mysterious solutions."

"Maybe it won't be so mysterious once we get her to St. Mungo's," suggested Harry. "She might be able to tell us how she did it."

"She will have to tell someone else," Josef corrected him. "We can discuss ways for you to announce yourself later. Now is hardly the time or place for you to reappear. I will carry her. You need to remain hidden."

Harry carefully laid Miraphora on a nearby bed. As he did, her eyes blinked open and she looked up at him sending a chill ran down his spine. Her eyes were bloodshot and glassy, but that only made their emerald green color all the more striking.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry..."

"It's alright," he told her gently. "You're alright now."

Her eyes stared into his, filled with panic and fear. "I— I didn't mean to, I swear. I'll never disobey you again, I promise. I'll do whatever you say. I— Just don't hurt me. Make it stop and I'll do anything you tell me."

A pair of strong hands pulled him away from the bed. "Put on your Cloak, Harry," Josef said in a low voice. "You need to go. Don't worry about her. There's nothing more you need to do. See that your friends get home. Rest. Madam Desmoda and I will see to everything here."

Ginny helped him slip the Invisibility Cloak over his head. Josef picked up Miraphora and all of them walked out of the Hospital Wing. Halfway to the Entrance Hall, they were intercepted by a very anxious Professor McGonagall. Josef urged her to let Harry and his friends leave immediately. She seemed a little reluctant to do so, but Josef and Valencia argued until she had no more choice.

Harry hardly remembered the walk back to Hogsmeade. Luckily, they ran into no Aurors or other Ministry officials. It took him two tries to Apparate back to Grimmauld Place. The first time he was able to stop just before he would have splinched himself horribly. His second attempt was successful, though no doubt Josef would have complained about the noise and the fact that he stumbled and fell upon arrival in the darkened alley.

Once back inside Number Twelve, he had little desire to return to his bed. Ginny was just as nervous about the hallway outside their bedroom. Instead, Ron ushered all of them into the parlor where Harry laid down on a couch. Ginny sat down in a chair nearby. Ron took another chair and conjured an ottoman next to another chair nearby for Hermione to relax in.

As Harry drifted off into sleep, his mind swam with images of Hermione writing on the old parchment, the darkness seeping into her arm, the black smoke pouring out of Marius's bed, and Miraphora staring up at him with bright green eyes.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Sorry for the delay. It's been a busy summer for me and my beta. The good news is that I hope to put out chapters 10, 11, 12, and 13 between now and Halloween, so keep an eye open for quick updates. 


	10. Three Messages

_This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

**CHAPTER 10**

**Three Messages**

* * *

Harry slowly emerged from sleep to find the morning sun creeping through the gap in the drapes which covered the only window in the room. The hazy shape of a young woman was leaning over him and saying something that his mind wasn't ready to hear yet. Instead of listening, he just smiled. 

"You know, waking up isn't so bad when I know you're here," he mumbled. 

"Thanks, Harry," Hermione replied dryly. "Why don't we just keep that a secret between the two of us. I'm afraid Ginny might get jealous." 

Harry jerked upright on the couch and fumbled for his glasses. After slipping them on, he was able to clearly see the crooked grin on Hermione's face. "Sorry," he quickly apologized, "I thought you were Ginny." 

"That's good to hear. The only other possibilities were her or Ron, and to be honest, I feel a little better knowing that you and Ron aren't as close as that." 

Harry ran his hands through his hair, trying to tame it. His clothes were wrinkled and twisted. At first he thought that Hermione had brought fresh clothes to him, but as he took a closer look, he recognized the bundle in her hands. "Where are you going with my Invisibility Cloak?" he asked. "Where is Ginny?" 

"Ginny is in the kitchen talking to Tonks," Hermione answered. "I'm not going anywhere and Ron is guarding the door, so neither are you." She tossed the Cloak to him and frowned. "I know we could trust Tonks, but Josef probably saved my life. If he thinks it's best that you stay hidden, then I'll do whatever it takes to make that happen." 

"Why is Tonks here?" Harry asked as he unrolled the Cloak. 

"McGonagall sent her," she replied. "She said she has messages for us." 

"What kind of messages?" 

"I wouldn't really know, would I?" said Hermione. "I had to make up an excuse to come back in here and wake you up." 

Harry stood up and pulled the Cloak around him, leaving only his head visible. "Come on, then," he said quietly. "I'll follow you. Just make sure you give me time to get through the door." 

Hermione stared at him. "No, Harry," she replied firmly. "You're staying here. This is serious. You're going to stay hidden and keep quiet. We'll tell you whatever we find out." 

Then without another word, Hermione spun on her heels and walked away quickly. Before Harry even had a chance to follow her, she had opened the door just enough to walk through, then let it shut, leaving Harry standing alone in the dim parlor.

* * *

The sound of the opening door startled Ginny. She wasn't sure if she felt worried or relieved when Hermione closed it without giving Harry any chance to follow. 

"I found it," Hermione announced, holding up her wand for everyone to see. "It must have slipped out of my pocket when I fell asleep." 

Tonks paid no attention to her. She had been telling Ginny about what had happened to Miraphora and Marius. As Madam Pomfrey had intended, Marius Lipton had been moved to a secure room deep below St. Mungo's. A number of Healers had already spent the morning examining him. 

"Have there been any... incidents?" Ginny asked. 

"Not at the hospital," Tonks answered. "The Healers did send a messenger to ask about one thing, however." Ginny sat silently, trying to think of which of the many mysterious things they might have picked out. "They wanted to know if any of the other boys in his room had been injured. One of them said he found signs that Marius had been in a fight." 

"What kind of signs?" asked Ron. 

"They said that both bones in Marius's right wrist had been snapped. Madam Pomfrey said she didn't notice it when he arrived in the Hospital Wing, but she also said that she left for St. Mungo's before she had a chance to properly examine him." Tonks tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. "Minerva said the three of you visited him. Did you see anything?" 

"Nothing interesting." 

Tonks raised an eyebrow and stared at him. "Nothing interesting?" she repeated. "Four lamps had exploded. The fires left scorch marks on the ceiling. That Romanian bloke carried Miraphora from the room. There must have been _something_ interesting to cause all that." 

Ron looked offended. Hermione and Ginny looked at each other for a moment. "He attacked me," Hermione blurted out. Ginny stiffened in her chair and glared at her, but Hermione continued in a steady voice. "We were looking to see if he had a curse scar like Miraphora. We found one, but when I tried to leave, he grabbed onto me." 

"He's barely alive," remarked Tonks. "He couldn't even pick his own arm up off the bed." 

Hermione's eyes widened. "Yes. He can. I've never felt strength like that. Josef was only trying to free me. He tried as hard as he could. If he hadn't broken Marius's arm, I don't think I would have gotten free." 

"And after that?" prompted Tonks. "Did he come after you? Why did you take Miraphora?" 

Hermione glanced over at Ginny. Ginny frowned slightly and shook her head almost imperceptibly. She still didn't understand just what had happened, but both Harry and Josef were staying quiet about it. It seemed wise to follow their lead. 

"She was looking so much better, we just couldn't leave her there with him," Hermione said without taking her eyes off Ginny. "It didn't feel right. We were worried about her." 

"They didn't put her with him at St. Mungo's did they?" Ginny asked. 

"No," Tonks replied with a suspicious glance. "They decided it was best to keep her at Hogwarts. And you were right: She is getting much better. She's still unconscious, but she isn't whispering anymore and Poppy said she isn't feeling anything odd from her like she did before." 

This was quite a relief to Ginny. After seeing her for the first time, Ginny had not returned to visit Miraphora as Hermione had. The memories of seeing her lying lifeless on the bed were haunting enough without any additional reminders. 

Hermione, Ron and even Josef had immediately thought of Harry when they heard of the first attack. Ginny had to admit that even she had jumped to the easy conclusion that the attack had been designed to draw Harry out of hiding. However, the moment she had seen Miraphora Franklin, it became very hard to ignore the similarities she saw. 

The young girl was, perhaps, slightly skinnier than she had been at that age, and her hair was not as long or as brightly colored as Ginny's, but she did have Ginny's brown eyes and a sprinkling of freckles across her nose and cheeks. She had not been attacked at random. It had been a message to Ginny as much as it had been to Harry. Whoever —or whatever— she'd seen in the corridor outside her bedroom had only reinforced that message. It was as clear as it had been the moment she'd first seen the letters on the wall where Miraphora had been attacked: She was in danger. 

Seeing Miraphora again that morning made her realize that she had forgotten one very important thing: the girl in the bed was more than some abstract warning. She was a young girl, just like Ginny had been, and both of them had been used by dark wizards. Ginny had wanted to escape the old potion room just as much as Ron and Harry, but as she looked at Miraphora laying in her bed and saw herself, she couldn't leave her there. It felt too much like killing the girl. 

"She looks better, then?" Ginny asked quietly. 

"Yeah, I think so," Tonks replied with a vigorous nod. "She looks almost normal, I'd say. McGonagall and Pomfrey said her eyes were looking a bit funny for a bit, but they're getting their color back now, I guess. They think she might even wake up sometime soon. No telling when, of course, but if she's at Hogwarts, she'll have friends to visit her when she does." 

"That's good to hear. I'm glad she won't have to wake up in the same room as Marius." 

"Yes, well, it seemed like a poor idea considering what they learned about him." Everyone perked up immediately. "While Remus and... the new librarian looked about for ghosts, the Aurors used some more conventional methods. They searched Marius's room. There were a number of notes from Miraphora. In one of them —the last one, obviously— she agreed to come to the Astronomy Tower. It was dated September nineteen. Miraphora was attacked only hours later." 

"That doesn't make sense," Ginny found herself replying before she had a chance to think. 

"You're right," agreed Ron. "Why would a sixth year be sneaking off to the Astronomy Tower with a _first year_? No offense, Ginny. It's not that she's hideous, it just... she's a bit _young_ for a bloke like him." 

Tonks glared at him. "No one said they were trying to snog each other silly. I'd much rather believe he was a dark wizard." 

"He's not," Ginny said weakly. "He couldn't have done this. He's just a sixth year. Even the Ministry wasn't able to figure out how to control it." 

"No, and it seems he didn't have much luck either, did he?" replied Tonks. "The librarian said the same thing, but it's a bit pointless now, isn't it? His father had been in trouble. He must have known it. His friends said he'd been acting strange for some time." 

"But the Diary," argued Ginny. "How could he have known?" 

"His father worked for the department of Mysteries," interrupted Tonks. "I assure you, they know about the Diary. They know about much more than you'd like them to know." 

"But why?" she persisted. "Why attack Miraphora? Why make it look like the Basilisk?" Something wasn't making sense in Ginny's mind, but she couldn't quite find the right question to address it. 

"We may never know," Tonks said heavily. "However, having it stop and not knowing why it happened is still better than not knowing why it's still happening." 

Ginny sat back and stared at the table. She didn't know how to convince Tonks of it —or if she really should— but it simply didn't make sense after everything that had happened the night before. Only hours earlier, they had been certain that the attacker was getting stronger and now they wanted to think that the attacker was lying in a coma under St. Mungo's. 

"It hasn't stopped." 

"Watch yourself, Ginny," Tonks warned her. "The Ministry says it has, and they've got more support than you do. Even if you're right, you'd do better to let them be embarrassed than risk getting sacked —or worse." 

"Unless I'm the next victim," Ginny mumbled. The moment she said it, she wished she hadn't. 

"Ginny?" Tonks said slowly as she tried to look at her. "Is there something you haven't told me? Why would you be the next victim? Did Remus say something that made you think that?" 

"Er, no," Ginny answered quickly. "I was speaking in a more general sense. I just meant that it would be difficult to explain to someone's parents that it was better for my career that I didn't protect their child." 

Tonks stared at her for some time. "It's not your job to protect anyone. That's my job. Let this be over, Ginny. I won't say you're not in any danger, but you don't have to be." She reached into her robes and pulled out a sealed roll of parchment. "This is a letter from the Ministry. You're being called to report to the Minister's office this afternoon." She slowly slid the parchment across the table. "Be careful, Ginny." 

Ginny took the roll and examined the small golden seal cementing it closed. It was the Minister's personal seal. Why was she being called? She didn't know any more than Hermione, and she obviously didn't have more information than the Aurors. She turned to look at Hermione and found both her and Ron looking at the parchment suspiciously. 

There wasn't much more to say. Tonks nodded politely toward the others and made her way to the door. Ginny's eyes were drawn back down to the parchment. It was already late in the morning. There was little time to try and figure out just what was going on. 

"I suppose I need to go get dressed," she announced flatly.

* * *

Ginny Apparated into the Ministry an hour later. The large hall was more crowded than usual. She was rarely there at lunch time, but it still seemed overly busy for a Monday. 

As she weaved her way through the clumps of wizards, she spotted a familiar shape standing near the center fountain like yet another statue. The shape was wearing a long grey cloak and turned away from her. It looked to be a wizard by its height and the broadness of its shoulders. Ginny slowed down and began circling around him to try and figure out who it was. 

It wasn't Josef, that was certain. The wizard's hair was light brown and hung down past his shoulders. As his face came into view, she found that he was already watching her. She paused and simply stared back. He made no motion to acknowledge her other than returning her gaze. After almost a minute, Ginny surveyed the hall, and finding no one who seemed to be paying any attention to her or the cloaked wizard, she casually approached him. As she neared him, he turned away and stopped looking at her. 

"What is it now?" she asked quietly as she stared into the fountain. The wizard didn't respond. "Why are you here?" she tried again, but there was still no answer. "Listen, you're here for a reason. Tell me what it is or I'll call the Aurors." 

"You are not the reason I have come," the wizard answered stiffly. 

Ginny didn't back down. "That's not what I asked." 

She saw him frown from the corner of her eye. "I am here to find Josef." 

"I haven't seen him." 

"Of course you haven't," the wizard growled, "You rarely notice him even when he is following you." 

"If I see him, what should I tell him?" 

"Nothing," he replied. "If you see him, then I have already delivered my message." 

"Why not deliver it to me?" suggested Ginny. "I am certain I will be able to find him before tonight." 

"We are in need of greater speed than that," he whispered, "and you are being watched. We have already said too much. You should go. Scrimgeour and Reynard will be waiting for you." 

"Why do you need to talk to Josef?" Ginny hissed, but the wizard had already turned and started walking away. A pair of passing witches stifled laughs as they passed by. Ginny ignored them and watched as the Brotherhood wizard Disapparated with a faint _snap_. 

She let out a deep sigh. Something wasn't quite right. The Ministry had apparently stopped investigating the attacks at Hogwarts. She had been summoned to discuss it, though she knew less than everyone else, and now the Brotherhood had come to the Ministry to find Josef. Two months of dealing with the Brotherhood had taught her to recognize when she was being drawn into a situation for a purpose. The only question was who was doing it and why. 

The guard by the gate gave her a stiff nod as she passed by. She tried not to think of what it might mean. He was probably just acknowledging her bizarre arrival. She had recently become worthy of interest to all of the guards. They were always watching her now, and not without good reason. A number of powerful wizards routinely asked them about when they last saw her. 

Harrington had explained this to her earlier that week. It really wasn't much of a surprise to Ginny. Harry, Josef, and Hermione had all agreed that Reynard was almost certainly having her followed. Josef had refused to tell her whether he knew of any wizards who followed her when she left the Ministry, but they were all certain that she would be watched constantly while inside the Ministry. 

Because of this, she was not at all surprised when an Auror stepped onto the lift at the very first level after the Atrium. They stood in uncomfortable silence the rest of the journey. When Ginny reached her destination, she stepped out of the lift but her unwelcome companion did not. He simply stared back at her as the gates closed. 

Before she had a chance to ask herself why he hadn't followed her, a stern looking witch stepped out of a nearby corner to call for another lift. Ginny stopped to take a closer look at her. Her robes were black and rather boring and her hair was tied back in a tight pony tail. She was pretending to not even notice Ginny though they were the only people in the small lobby. A lift arrived a moment later and within seconds, the witch had stepped into it. It had gone down, not up. _Towards the Department of Mysteries,_ Ginny told herself. 

She turned around and tried to push the incident from her mind. Of all the things that had happened that day, it was the easiest to understand. It was pointless to concern herself with it at the moment. She needed to focus on other things. 

"_Psst!_" 

Ginny froze just past the corner leading away from the lifts. She spun around and saw the dark outline of a man standing in a shallow alcove in the corridor on the other side of the lobby she had just left. The man leaned farther out into the corridor and Ginny suddenly recognized him as Ferdinand Harrington. He looked about nervously, then motioned for her to join him quickly. After taking a moment to search the corridor for herself, she did. He put a firm hand on her back and pushed her into a small dark room. 

"What's going on?" she asked after he'd closed the door. 

"More than I have time to explain," he replied. "We only have a minute or two until he learns that you've arrived. He was trying to keep us from speaking before the meeting." 

"And who is _he_?" 

"Reynard, of course," Harrington hissed with a paranoid glance at the door. "He's the one who called the meeting. He's found a way to convince the Minister to give him even more power." 

"He called the meeting?" Ginny asked. "Why summon me, then?" 

"He didn't! I did," snapped the older wizard. "Forget about that now. Have you seen your friend lately?" he asked, whispering the last few words. 

"Josef? No, I haven't. Why is everyone—" 

"Not him," he replied, shaking his head in frustration. "Your _other_ friend. The _shy_ one?" 

"Oh!" exclaimed Ginny. He meant Harry. "Yes. I saw him just a few minutes ago." 

"Did you see him last night?" 

Ginny paused and tried to think of what Harrington was trying to get at. "Yes, I did see him last night," she answered in a serious tone. 

Harrington leaned closer to her and stared into her eyes. "Can you _prove_ it? Can anyone else confirm it?" 

"Yes," she answered hesitantly. "There are others..." 

"How many? Who saw him?" 

"Er, let me see," she began as she tried to count them in her head. "Four others," she answered after a moment. "Why is it important?" 

Harrington ignored her. "Four? Granger and your brother, correct? I would guess one of the others was Mr. Kantos, then? Who was the fourth?" 

"Valencia," she answered, "—Madam Desmoda, I mean. She's the Hogwarts librarian." 

"The librarian..." he whispered to himself. "Do you trust her?" 

Ginny nodded. 

Harrington frowned and paced back and forth in front of her. "There's nothing to do about it now. We'll just have to think of something before he finds out about her. You're certain there is no one else? No one who might have guessed or—" 

"Wait," she interrupted him. "There is someone else. I mean, there might be. I don't really know if she would remember or if she would even believe it..." 

"Who is it?" he asked impatiently 

"Miraphora Franklin." 

Harrington continued pacing about the room while mumbling to himself. After less than a minute, he let out a sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "There's no more time. They'll be calling us to the meeting soon." 

"But— it's not supposed to start for another hour!" she argued. 

"Reynard is going to try to start it early," he replied, "and we've got to be there when he does." He led her back to the door and carefully opened it just enough to allow him to check the corridor. Apparently it met his approval, and he began speaking very quickly. 

"Go back to your office, but don't stay there very long," he whispered. "Let yourself be seen, but do not let anyone keep you there for more than a minute or two. Then, I want you to come directly to the Minister's office. Once you leave, do not stop until you are at the Minister's door. Do you understand me?" 

Ginny nodded, though she wasn't sure if she truly did understand him. What was going on? Why wasn't there any time? Why was Harrington so worried? 

He gave her a weak smile. "I hope to see you soon," he whispered, then slipped out of the door. By the time Ginny followed him, he was already walking toward the lifts. She tried to catch up to him, but stopped abruptly when she reached the small lobby. Other wizards were standing there, now, and two of them seemed to be doing absolutely nothing. She ducked behind the corner before anyone had a chance to see her. 

Ginny didn't want to find out what problem Harrington was trying to help her avoid, so she turned around and walked away from the lifts quickly. There was another way back to her office. It took longer, but she had suddenly developed a fear of being seen. 

A minute later she arrived at Carmilla's desk, though this time she was approaching it from behind. The old witch jumped slightly as Ginny greeted her, and then started asking if there was anything Ginny needed. What she needed was a lot of answers and few interruptions, but this sounded a little rude inside her head, so she simply apologized and strode off toward her office. 

As she reached the last corner, she spotted something different. Evelyn Sibley's office door was ajar. She took a brief moment to peer inside, but didn't see anything. 

"Snooping about, _Ginevra_?" 

Ginny whirled about to find Evelyn glowering at her. She took a deep breath and forced herself to remain calm. "I don't have time for you right now, Evelyn. I'm sure I'll have plenty of time to listen to your bitterness tomorrow, but I really must be off." 

"You seemed to have plenty of time when you were trying to sneak into my office," she sneered. "Now that I'm here, you're suddenly in a hurry to get away." 

"Get that a lot, do you?" Ginny heard herself reply. She winced at the remark and quickly slipped past Evelyn on her way to her office. 

"So you're not even going to play at being polite, then?" Evelyn called out. Ginny tapped the handle to the door with her wand and it swung open gently. She stepped into the room and quickly surveyed it for anything that seemed out of place or worthy of note. Finding nothing, she grabbed some blank parchment and a quill and headed back toward the door. 

"You're not even interested in where I've been or what I've been doing?" Evelyn asked from just outside the door. 

"I can only assume you've been continuing your miserable existence," Ginny answered as she tried to close and lock her office door. "To be honest, I thought it was a brilliant idea to send you out of the office. I found it rather refreshing. I wish it had been my idea." She didn't have any time to deal with Evelyn. She had lost enough time already. She needed to get to the Minister's office. 

As she walked away from her office, she heard Evelyn speaking just loud enough for her to hear: "Be careful, Weasley. The world is getting to be a dangerous place." 

Ginny walked quickly, barely restraining her urge to break into a run. She passed by Carmilla's desk, ignoring the witch's questions about where she was going. When she reached the lifts, however, she was brought to a halt. A wizard in smudged robes was placing signs over all of the grates: 

_OUT OF ORDER._

"Out of Order!" Ginny cried. "You can't shut down all the lifts!" 

"You're absolutely right, I can't," the man replied in weary voice. "I just follow orders. Some bloody wizard declared them _unsafe_ and I get my supervisor shouting at me to _shut them all down_," he said, imitating a deep, gruff voice. "And as if that's not bad enough, I get people like you wailing about it as if this is part of my personal vendetta against magical transportation." 

As he was talking, one of the last remaining lifts, clattered open, releasing a pair of witches who looked more than a little disturbed at the fact that they had been riding on the one of the only good lifts. 

"What about that one?" Ginny asked. 

"All of them," the wizard sighed. "There's nothing to be done. If you really need to get somewhere, there are stairs... somewhere. It'd probably be faster to just wait for these to be fixed, of course, but wizards these days like being _proactive_." 

"How about I just take this one and risk it?" Ginny said as she strode toward the closing grates. She caught them just before they locked together, and pulled herself through. As the shiny gold metalwork closed again, she heard the wizard calling out to her. 

"I'm sure your impatience will serve you well after you have both your legs lopped off!" 

Ginny's fear of amputation was still overshadowed by her concern over whatever it was that was about to happen in Scrimgeour's office. She stood impatiently as the lift clattered to its destination. She felt the lift lurch to a halt, and for an instant, she closed her eyes and hoped that the gates would open. 

A moment later metallic screeching announced her arrival. She straightened her robes and stepped out of the lift into a large rich-looking lobby. Before she had a chance to take more than a few steps toward the corridor leading to the Minister's office, a pair of robed wizards stepped into the room and approached her. 

"Those lifts are out of order," a tall man with a narrow face told her. 

"Mine worked fine," Ginny replied as she continued toward the corridor at the end of the room. 

"Hold on," said the other one, a stocky blonde-haired man. "This area's closed for the day!" 

"The Minister's office is closed?" Ginny asked as she continued walking directly toward them. "I find that hard to believe." 

The stockier wizard frowned. "Doesn't matter what you believe," he growled. "No one enters that corridor. We've got orders from the Minister." 

"So do I," said Ginny. She held up the roll of parchment and simply walked around the pair of them. Of course, if they would stop her and read the parchment, they'd find Harrington's signature, not the Minister's, but she doubted he was being honest about the source of their orders either. 

"Don't you walk away from us, girl!" he shouted. 

Ginny felt a tingle of fear in her stomach. As she turned the corner, she allowed her eyes to dart back toward the pair of wizards. They were pulling out their wands. 

Ginny stuffed the roll of parchment back into her robes. Whatever protection it might have given her was no longer enough. She would need to be ready to draw her own wand if they were as serious as they looked. She began walking faster, cursing her choice of shoes as the corridor was filled with the sound of her quickened pace. Cautiously, she pulled her wand from her pocket and pressed it against her wrist so it could not be seen. 

A few seconds later, a new set of sounds filled the corridor: the firm, muffled concussion of heavy boots following her. She refused to turn and look at them. She was supposed to be here. She had been ordered to be here. Why were they trying to stop her? 

"Ginny, wait!" the taller one called out. "Perhaps we have made a mistake. Stop a moment, and let us escort you to the Minister's office. These corridors can be rather confusing. It is easy to get lost." 

"I prefer to my own way, if it's all the same," she shouted back. "It was a thoughtful offer, but I don't need guides." 

"_We insist,_" he replied. 

Ginny heard the rhythm of their footsteps increase. A number of things became quite apparent to her. First, she was certain that the two wizards were not Aurors, nor were they the normal security wizards. The corridors and offices were deserted, some of them looking as though the occupants had left rather quickly. Whatever was happening in the Minister's office was more important than she'd even guessed. However, even more important to her at that moment was the certainty that if the two wizards behind her caught up to her, she would never make it to that meeting. 

Without warning, she broke into a desperate run. As she reached a corner, she ducked down and veered sharply toward the path to the Minister's office. The wizards behind her were shouting at her, but there were no hexes or curses. She ran down the next length of corridor with both of them slowly gaining ground on her. She slid around one more corner and stared down the last corridor between her and the Minister's office. 

Some distance away, the corridor widened dramatically into a large hall with a vaulted ceiling. At the other end of that hall was the door to the Minister's office. She could almost see it. Halfway to the hall, she heard the wizards shouting orders from behind her. They had stopped, and she didn't want to figure out why. 

Suddenly, a large wizard and dark-haired witch ran into view at the end of the corridor. Ginny skidded to a halt less than thirty feet from them. Behind her, the other wizards had started walking toward her again. 

"Ginevra Weasley!" the stocky wizard shouted from behind her. "You are being detained for the breaking of magical law!" 

"I didn't break any law," she replied. "I was called here. I am to meet with the Minister of Magic." 

"You are trespassing!" he shouted. "You have disobeyed authority, lied, vandalized Ministry property—" 

"Vandalized what? The lifts?" she asked incredulously. "They aren't even damaged!" 

"—and drawn your wand on Ministry employees," the wizard finished. Ginny looked down at her hand and saw that her wand was in her hand and ready for use. 

"I'm a Ministry employee, too," she argued. "You drew your wands before I did." 

"That is not how I remember it," the taller wizard said with a crooked smile. 

_Why is this happening?_ she asked herself. Had Harrington lured her into a trap? He couldn't have. It made no sense. Why would he warn her of his own trap? It couldn't be the Minister. He could have simply sent the Aurors for her the moment she walked into the Ministry. 

"You work for Reynard, don't you?" she asked them, though she already knew the answer. "You know that all of those things you accused me of are false. If you throw me in a room and try to interrogate me, you'll anger the Romanian Minister even more than our own." 

"I'm aware of that," the dark-haired witch announced with a silky voice. "We don't have to interrogate you to get what we want. I doubt there is anything you know that is even worth such a thing. Of course, your Romanian friend will be outraged nonetheless, but it will be too late for him to fix." 

Ginny suddenly remembered what Harrington had told her: She wasn't supposed to let anyone stop her. Was that the key? Could she just ignore them? An even more interesting question materialized in her mind: _Why hadn't they simply stunned her earlier?_ It was simple and it would have saved them quite a bit of time and effort. 

_They can't use their wands,_ she realized with a smile. Of course there would be wards around the Minister's office to sound alarms if any wizard attacked another. She simply had to keep moving and there wasn't anything they could do to stop her. 

To test her new theory, she took a step forward. The wizard in front of her immediately raised their wands. Ginny stared right into the witch's eyes and took another step. The corners of her mouth started to twitch into a frown, but she kept her wand pointed directly at Ginny's chest. Pleased with the result, Ginny took two more steps forward. None of them flinched, but they didn't cast any curses, either. Ginny kept walking until she was only a few feet from the witch and wizard in front of her. 

The witch scowled at her. "If you think I won't do it—" 

"I know you won't," Ginny interrupted. "If you could, you would have done it long ago." 

Ginny gave the tall wizard a gentle shove so she could slip between him and the witch, but before she could squeeze through, a large hand clamped down on her shoulder. 

She'd been expecting something like it and her wand was instantly pointed at the ceiling. "I expect the wards don't really care what sort of spell is cast. If you don't let go, we'll all find out." The wizard released her shoulder with a snarl. Ginny pushed past him and walked into the large hall with her pulse pounding in her ears. She could hear the footsteps following her. One set, higher pitched and quicker than the rest, were approaching quickly. 

"You think you're safe, do you?" the witch purred in her ear. "You think your friends can protect you, or that you're important enough that you don't have to worry?" 

Ginny didn't respond. She just kept walking toward the door to the Minister's office. His secretary was gone. The hall which was normally busy with all sorts of wizards was totally empty. The only sign of inhabitation came from the light leaking out from under the Minister's door. 

"If you walk through that door, there's no going back," the witch hissed. "This is your last chance, Ginny. You know what happened to Lipton. You know what happened to his son. That is only a taste of how bad it can be." 

"I'll take my chances," Ginny said. 

"Stupid girl!" the witch spat. "You don't even know what you're doing. You're just bumbling about, doing what everyone else tells you. Think for yourself! Stop! Go home! Walk away. If you're here for the gold, we can arrange for you to be taken care of. You don't want Reynard as an enemy." 

Ginny finally turned to glare at the witch. It had been a subtle threat, but a threat nonetheless. With a few more steps, she stopped in front of the door and reached up to knock on the polished wood. 

The witch's arm shot out and grabbed her wrist. "If we wanted to hurt you, we would have. We're not the ones you should be afraid of. If you value your life, turn around and walk away." 

Ginny wrenched her arm away from the witch and knocked firmly on the door. The witch let out a deep sigh. "Remember," she whispered, "you had your chance. This was your choice." 

Seconds later, the door opened dramatically to reveal a large man with a straw-colored mane of hair. "Ah, Miss Weasley," Scrimgeour said with a frown. "Mr. Reynard said that you would be unable to make it." 

Ginny looked past the Minister to see Auguste Reynard sitting in a large chair against the far wall. His hands were clenched together and his lip was curling back in disgust. 

"I nearly didn't," Ginny replied with a false smile. "Thankfully, a few of Mr. Reynard's employees were nice enough to help me out." 

"Oh? Well... that's, er— that's uncommonly kind of them, I suppose—" sputtered Rufus Scrimgeour. "Very unexpected. Good to hear." He looked a bit confused, but it didn't stop him from ushering Ginny into his office and dismissing the four wizards behind her with a polite nod. 

The room was not new to her. She had been there just over three weeks ago. Scrimgeour had been even less welcoming then, and it seemed that three weeks had simply dulled his annoyance rather than erasing it. Ginny stood for a moment and looked about the room. Reynard was still glaring at her from his chair. His white hair was shorter than it had been the last time she'd seen him, and his eyes were so pale they almost appeared to be yellow. 

Sitting in another chair nearby was Mr. Harrington. He was trying to hide a pleased expression behind one of his hands. Along the other wall was a pair of wizards. One of them she recognized as Gawain Robards, the head of the Aurors. The other she had met. He was one of the governors of Hogwarts, but she had never really been told his name. 

"Go on, then, we left a chair for you," Scrimgeour said firmly. "Do make yourself comfortable, but remember that we have real business to attend to and you are here at Ferdinand's request, not mine. Try not to interrupt us unless absolutely necessary." 

"Let her interrupt all she wants," growled Reynard. "It no longer matters to me. We cannot discuss the information I came here to reveal to all of you. Perhaps we can start a debate about who will be in next year's Quidditch World Cup. Myself, I think Bulgarians are a foregone conclusion. Perhaps Italy will join them. What do you think, Gawain?" 

"Enough, Reynard," announced Scrimgeour as he sauntered back to his desk. "You were the one who wanted to speak to all of us. Speak. I've had enough with this Hogwarts business. If you have answers I want to hear them now." 

Reynard narrowed his eyes at the Minister. "Do you think I asked you to empty the entire wing because I like causing trouble?" 

"Well, the thought did cross my mind, but I—" 

"I requested that in an attempt to keep the information I have a secret. What point is there in discussing this if _she_ is here?" Reynard asked with a nod toward Ginny. 

"I assure you that Ginny can keep secrets as well as any of us," commented Harrington. 

Reynard turned to glare at him with shocked fury. "Yes," he said through clenched teeth, "I am well aware of that." 

"Then there is no problem at all," Harrington announced lightly. 

"She is a Liaison to a foreign country!" 

"She is the Liaison to Romania," Harrington argued, "and the Minister himself has declared that all information we have should be shared with them. Of course, if this... information you have is sensitive, I'm sure Ginny will show discretion in telling only the highest ranking officials. Let's not forget how helpful they were in locating the body of Marcus Lipton." 

Reynard did not immediately respond. Instead he sat and stared at Harrington as though he was hoping to find some answers in the other wizard's expression. "You already know, don't you?" he finally asked. "You know why I don't want her here." 

"I'm afraid I do not," Harrington replied with feigned ignorance. "Ginny was assigned to deal with this matter. If you remember, at the time both you and the Minster agreed that it would be acceptable. Do you have some reason to believe she is no longer suitable for this assignment?" 

"Yes, I do," Reynard snarled. "Please trust me, Minister," he pleaded. "If Miss Weasley hears what I have to say, more lives will be put in danger. We cannot trust her with this information." 

"That is quite the accusation!" shouted Harrington. "You seem to be suggesting that she is the one responsible for the attacks." 

"No. Not _her_." 

"Someone she knows, then?" suggested Harrington. Ginny felt a pinch of panic as realized what Reynard was planning on suggesting. She didn't know what to do about it. She would simply have to trust Harrington. For the moment, he seemed to know what he was doing. 

"You realize that this accusation is only slightly less serious than the previous one," commented Harrington. "She is a Ministry employee. If she was using her status to hide the crimes of a friend, she could be subjected to the same punishment as the person who truly committed the crime." 

"That's not what I said—" 

"It is," insisted Harrington. "You are sitting in the office of the Minster of Magic and you are saying that you refuse to trust a Ministry representative —one that you yourself suggested for this assignment— because you think she cannot be trusted with the answers we told her to find. That is a strong indictment. Perhaps you are correct. We should end this meeting now and take Miss Weasley to the Wizengamot. If they cannot hear her case today, I will simply put her on permanent leave. I'm certain that Minister Debreczeni will be upset, but there's little—" 

"Enough!" barked Reynard. "There is no need for legal action. She has committed no crime, as yet. I simply feel that in the name of secrecy we should limit this information to only those required to know. I don't see—" 

"This is a discussion about the cause of the attacks at Hogwarts, Auguste," Scrimgeour interrupted him, "and Miss Weasley has been assigned to represent Britain in this matter. It is her responsibility to know as much about these attacks as we do. Now, unless you are ready to lock her up in Azkaban, I would like to get on with business." 

The Minister turned away from the brooding Reynard and began asking questions of Gawain Robards. He quickly related much of the information Tonks had told them that morning. As Robards spoke, Harrington kept a close eye on her. His eyebrows were raised slightly to create a warning expression. The message was clear: Say nothing. 

Ginny forced herself to not react when Robards started talking about Marius Lipton's current state. He mentioned the advanced state of his illness and the bizarre effects he seemed to have on the immediate area. He attributed the broken lamps to the heat which seemed to surround Marius, but could not explain the boy's broken arm. 

"There are a number of signs that Marius was involved in some sort of struggle," commented Reynard. "The boys who share a room with him reported nothing, yet the Healers at St. Mungo's said it was quite obvious. I think it is apparent that Mr. Lipton had a visitor sometime between the time when he was found, and when the Healers arrived. Perhaps this visitor returned to finish his work on Mr. Lipton and found the boy to be a little livelier than he expected." 

Ginny immediately saw what Reynard was trying to suggest. The truth would come out sooner or later, and it would look a lot better if she simply told the truth from the start. 

"Marius did have visitors, but they were not trying to kill him," Ginny announced. "I was one of them." 

"Were you? How interesting," remarked Reynard with a smile. "I would very much like to hear why you were so eager to see the boy at that hour." 

"I had no reason to see him," Ginny replied. "I merely accompanied Hermione Granger. We received a strange report and she felt it was important to inspect him immediately." 

"A report?" Reynard snarled. "What sort of report? From whom?" 

"I'm afraid I cannot say," she answered with a thin smile. "You may ask the Romanian minister, if you like." 

Reynard glared at her. "So you and Granger examined the boy, and during the course of this examination, you decided to viciously shatter both bones in his wrist." 

"While we were there, there was... an incident," Ginny replied hesitantly. "His hand grabbed onto Hermione's arm. It was just a reflex, I'm sure, and probably another symptom of his illness. Sadly, there was no other way to force his hand to release her." 

"Curious," Reynard commented. "Even more curious is the fact that the Healers say no magic was used to do it. I find it hard to believe that either of you are able to break a young man's bones like that. Who actually did it?" 

"Josef Kantos," Ginny said confidently. She told them that he had been the one to alert them, but tried to make her explanation as short as possible. Reynard returned a sour expression, but asked no more questions. 

"Enough of that," Scrimgeour announced gruffly. "I don't see why I should care about broken bones or mysterious Romanians. I care about putting the wizard behind this in a cell in Azkaban. Now, Auguste, you claimed you had some sort of information about the cause of this." 

"Yes, but I must renew my objection to allowing Miss Weasley—" 

"Nonsense!" shouted Scrimgeour. "Ferdinand was right in this respect. Either we can trust her and tell her everything we know, or she has committed a serious crime and we need to consider a hearing in front of the Wizen—" 

"That will not be necessary," interrupted Reynard. 

Scrimgeour leaned back in his chair. "Then let us move forward. Now, Gawain, these notes you found seem to suggest that young Mr. Lipton is the wizard who attacked Miss Franklin. If that is the case, then who attacked him?" 

The Auror shook his head slowly. "That attack is even more mysterious than the first. It seems that no one was capable of doing it. Perhaps it was simply the result of a mis-cast curse? Perhaps he was attempting to attack one of the other boys in the room, and he simply failed. His professors have said that he possessed no extraordinary magical talent for charms or curses." 

"And yet we're to believe that this completely ordinary boy has mastered magic that is both unidentifiable and totally irreversible by the Healers at St. Mungo's," remarked Scrimgeour. "It's too much to believe. Did the boy kill his father as well? No, I'm sorry. It's all well and good for you to downplay the danger. I don't want to think about the panic this would cause at that school, and the last thing I want to deal with are unreasonable parents. Still, the question remains: Who is responsible for this? Is this another Death Eater attack? Do they even exist anymore?" 

"They do exist," answered Gawain Robards. "However, they have been very disorganized lately. I think they've fired more curses at each other than anyone else." 

"What about this other group, then?" continued Scrimgeour. "I had been told they had been disbanded, but recent events have made me question that report." 

"I said they were _disabled_, not _disbanded_," Reynard interjected. 

"And how does one only disable a cult of wizards?" the Minister asked sharply. "Did you just take away their wands?" 

Reynard rolled his eyes. "I'll admit it is possible that they are involved, but not directly." 

"If you are so certain, then who _is_ responsible?" Scrimgeour asked sourly. Reynard sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment, then turned to stare directly into Ginny's eyes. 

"Harry Potter," he announced clearly. 

The room became completely silent. The only occupants who didn't appear completely shocked were Reynard and Harrington. Ginny felt as though she'd been slapped. Gawain Robards looked completely confused. The Hogwarts governor had stepped back to watch them all with deep suspicion. Rufus Scrimgeour, however, did not look confused or suspicious. He was angry. 

"This is what you needed to tell me?" he growled. "You want me to send the Aurors out after one of the most famous martyrs of our time. Why Potter? Why not Albus Dumbledore? Did you pick him because of his history of refusing my requests? They'll think I'm mental if I announce that. Perhaps that's exactly what you want." 

"No, I don't want you to tell anyone," Reynard replied. "Not yet. Give me time and more Aurors and—" 

"I've already given you half the Aurors. How many more would you need?" 

"Not many," answered Reynard with a smile. "Robards and two others to help me find him, and another three to keep an eye on Miss Weasley," he said, quickly adding: "—for her protection, of course." 

"I don't need protection," Ginny said. 

"You will," Reynard replied. "You have no idea how much he's changed. You can't trust him. No one can." 

"You're sure he's alive?" Scrimgeour asked, seemingly taking the suggestion a little more serious. "You have proof of it?" Reynard nodded slowly. "And the attacks? You're confident he's behind them." 

Reynard's yellow eyes stared at Ginny. "Yes," he said coldly, "he is, and he's probably getting help." 

Scrimgeour frowned and rubbed his neck. "You have three days," he said quietly. "You can have your six Aurors, but I want proof in three days." 

"I need a week," Reynard argued. "It will take two days just to train the Aurors." 

"Alright, you have a week," the Minister said, "but if I hear anyone talking about this, you're the one I'll be sending to Azkaban. And you, Miss Weasley," he said in a louder voice, "would do well to keep quiet about this. Don't think I've forgotten about you and your friend's past relationship with Potter. If you've seen him, you need to tell us or face Azkaban yourself. Have you seen him?" 

Ginny swallowed and tried to remain calm. "Seen him?" she replied with a sardonic smile. "We sleep together every night."

* * *

The scowl on Ginny's face had not left by the time she and Harrington stepped off of the lifts and began walking toward their offices. "You know, anger only makes you look guilty," commented Harrington. 

"Which emotion should I be pretending to feel, then?" Ginny asked. 

"Confusion or concern might be good places to start," he answered. 

Ginny took a deep breath and tried to relax. "I don't have time to try and act innocent," she whispered. "I have to figure out what I'm supposed to do about three Aurors following me everywhere I go." 

"You have some time," Harrington whispered back. "It will take Reynard a few days to teach the others what they'll need to know to try and track down Harry. For the three following you, you probably have only a day or so, but if you're smart, you can extend that a little bit. The Ministry still officially believes you live with your parents. I assume that is not actually true." 

"No, but I think Reynard already knows that. He must. There was a battle just outside—" 

"No! Don't tell me!" Harrington interrupted. "I don't want to know. If you cannot hide there, then you have two options: make it safe or go someplace else. If there is anything you need, just ask." 

They had come to a stop just before reaching the small lobby where Carmilla's desk was. Ginny didn't know what to do. It had been easy for Harry to hide from the world over the last two weeks. No one was looking for him. No one would even know where to start, but Reynard would. He would show them how to find wizards under Invisibility Cloaks and tell them all the places that Harry might go. It would be like running from the Brotherhood again. 

Ginny felt her throat tighten. She didn't want that. That would mean that Harry would have to leave. She'd lost him before and she had vowed that she'd never let that happen again. There had to be some other way. Somehow, Reynard had gotten the advantage. Maybe there was a way she could take that away. The situation was not the same as it was with the Brotherhood. Harry wasn't alone anymore. He'd done nothing wrong, and he could prove it. There had to be a way to stop this. 

"I need to speak with Josef," she announced, "as soon as possible." 

"I'll see what I can do," Harrington told her, "but I suspect he'll find you faster than I could possibly find him." 

"You're probably right," she agreed. "Hopefully he'll know where to find me. I think it's best if I was out of my office for the day." 

"I agree," the older wizard replied. "There's nothing for you to do here. Come on." 

The two of them rounded the last corner and found Carmilla sitting at her desk scratching away furiously at a piece of parchment. She didn't even lift her head to greet them. 

"Carmilla?" Harrington called out as he passed by. "Ginny's going to be out of the office for the rest of today, and probably tomorrow as well." He paused for a moment, then added: "You probably shouldn't schedule any appointments for Wednesday, either." 

"Very well," she replied in a clear voice. 

"Oh, and we urgently need to find Josef Kantos. If you could find him, please send him—" 

"He's waiting in Miss Weasley's office," Carmilla interrupted, still feverishly writing. 

Harrington blinked in surprise, then shook his head and shrugged. "Of course he is. I should have expected that." He and Ginny continued walking. He gave her a stiff nod as they reached his office. "Good luck," he whispered, then disappeared behind the polished door. Ginny continued on past the rows of cubicles to the narrow corridor which let to her office. 

The door to Evelyn's office was open again, but this time it was easy to see that it was vacant. She wondered for a moment where she had gotten off to, since Harrington hadn't been around for her to bother. Her questions were answered as she heard voices coming from farther down the corridor. She quietly walked around the corner and saw Evelyn standing in the doorway to her office. She was speaking to someone. 

"You can't tell me there is nothing more to it," Evelyn said sharply. "Why would a Russian orphan be raised by an influential Romanian wizard? There were at least twenty orphans in his own country. Why did he pick you?" 

"Even I cannot answer that." It was Josef's voice, just as Carmilla had told her. Ginny crept forward to hear more clearly. 

"You've never asked? You weren't at all curious?" Evelyn asked in an accusatory tone. "You never wondered why you lived, when the families of every other witch and wizard who supported your parents had been killed on sight?" 

"I have warned you before: Do not go searching for answers which do not want to be found," he told her. "I do not mean this as a threat, but I must ask you to stop pursuing this information. Even if you found your answers, you would not live to report them." 

"What about Ginevra?" countered Evelyn. "How much does she know? That's why Tarus revived that antiquated Liaison nonsense, wasn't it? She found out too much didn't she? Why wasn't she killed?" 

"She is no ordinary witch," he replied. Ginny could hear the intensity in his voice. 

"Oh, yes," purred Evelyn, "I'm sure Ginevra has many impressive talents. You're intimately familiar with them, aren't you? Was that all it took to buy her life? Her pale, smooth skin. Her soft lips. Her breath on your neck as she—" 

"Enough," Josef barked. "We're done. You should leave now." 

"Ah, a sensitive subject," sneered Evelyn. "Isn't that curious? You had no problem speaking about the death of the man who raised you from childhood. Where was Ginny when his supposed 'accidental' death occurred?" Josef began to speak, but Ginny interrupted him. 

"He asked you to leave, Evelyn," she announced. "Mr. Kantos and I have business to attend to." 

"Ah, yes, _business_," she sneered. "Well, this is a step up from the Astronomy Tower, isn't it?" With a scowl, she turned and walked past Ginny and back toward her own office. 

Ginny shook her head, slipped into her office and quickly closed the door. Josef had his back turned to her as he stared into the small fire burning in the fireplace. He looked as uncomfortable as Ginny had ever seen him. 

"I'm sorry you had to hear that," he said as she collapsed into the chair at her desk. "It was... unfortunate." 

"I'm sorry I work with such a spiteful person," Ginny replied. "It's something I've come to accept, but you don't have to. You could have just closed the door." 

"No..." he replied with a sigh, still refusing to look at her. "No, I needed to know how much she has learned. It was necessary but, as I said, unfortunate." 

"I'm sure. We have bigger problems than Evelyn Sibley, though. I just met with the Minister. Reynard was there and he said—" 

"Not now," interrupted Josef. "We can speak tonight." 

"This is serious!" Ginny said in an annoyed tone. "We don't have time to lose. We need to talk now. If I wait even six hours—" 

Josef interrupted her again. "If you wait six hours, we can find a place to speak where we can be certain Auguste Reynard will not hear us." 

"But there are wards—" 

"—which no one has checked for weeks," Josef finished for her. "Wards are not permanent, and I doubt a wizard with his resources would be held back by something as trivial as Silencing Charm." 

"Why not find someplace now, then?" 

"Because I must return to Romania," he answered. Ginny remembered the cloaked wizard in the Atrium and frowned. 

"He found you then? Is everything alright?" 

"I hope so," Josef replied, "but it will take time to be certain. I suspect we'll both be followed, so it will take longer to return to Romania. I have arranged a meeting place for tonight." He pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it to her. "Don't open that until you leave, and burn it once you've read it. Apparate, don't use the Floo System, and don't show up any earlier than the time on that piece of parchment." 

"What should I do if you're not there?" 

"Run." The look in his eyes disturbed Ginny. She nodded silently and stared down at the envelope. This wasn't the way things were supposed to go. She was supposed to get her job back and everything was supposed to return to normal. She and Harry were going to live their lives, together. They shouldn't have to keep fighting like this. 

Ginny slipped the envelope into her pocket. Josef was trying to help. She'd trusted him before. Even Harry had trusted him after everything he'd gone though over the last year. He gave her a weak smile and politely excused himself. She watched silently as he opened her door and walked out of her office. 

A minute later, she did the same. She closed and locked the door, quietly placing an extra charm to tell her if anyone attempted to further tamper with any of the existing wards. No one bothered her on her way out of the Ministry, and the guard at the gate didn't even notice her pass by. The only wizard who seemed to mark her arrival was a tall figure standing at the far end of the hall. He was wearing a grey cloak which mostly obscured his face. After looking at him for a few seconds, he simply vanished. Ginny Disapparated a few seconds later. 

Once back in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, she immediately pulled the envelope from her pocket. Harry was leaping down the stairs, obviously eager to hear what had happened at the Ministry. Ginny gave him a brief hug and a casual kiss on the cheek before turning her attention back to the envelope. 

"What is that?" Harry asked suspiciously. 

"Josef gave it to me," she answered. "Something bad is happening. He's going to find some secret place where I can talk to him about it. He didn't want anyone to know about it." She quickly ripped open the envelope, unfolded the parchment and stared at the words written on it. 

"That's his idea of a secret location?" she remarked. 

"It's a common tactic for the Brotherhood," answered Harry. "It's much easier to hide in a crowd than an empty room." 

Perhaps he was right. Still, considering the last few months, it was one of the last places she would have considered for any sort of secret discussion. Ginny stared down at the parchment, reading the words again and hoping they would change into something more encouraging: 

_THE LEAKY CAULDRON: MIDNIGHT_

* * *

When she Apparated into Diagon Alley, she had thought —or hoped— that it would be quieter than it was when she normally visited. The truth did nothing to comfort her about Josef's choice for a meeting place. She could hear a number of raucous voices through the doorway to the pub, and all thoughts she had of privacy disappeared. 

The scene inside the _Leaky Cauldron_ was just as the noises outside had suggested. While it was not nearly as full as she had ever seen it, the current patrons were far less sedate than those who frequented the pub earlier in the evening. Tom nodded to her as she walked past the bar. 

"Good to see you, Ginny," he called out. "I'm afraid I've already tossed out the day's _Daily Prophet_. One of these lot might still have one though. If you'd like I can ask about." 

"Don't worry about it, Tom," Ginny replied as her eyes began searching the tables. "I'm here to meet a friend." 

"Ah, of course," Tom replied with a smile. "I believe that's him over there." He pointed a stubby finger toward a table near the door. A wizard wearing a worn, sandy-brown cloak sat with his back to her. Across from him was an empty seat. 

Ginny thanked Tom and dodged her way through tables covered in empty mugs and unsteady patrons toward the table at the other side of the large room. On her journey, she got more than a few solicitous looks, had to turn down a few slurred offers of drinks or places to sleep and was forced to slap the arm of one drunken wizard who had grabbed her thigh as she passed. With her lips curled in disgust, she finally made it to the table and threw herself down in the empty chair. 

"Sorry about all that," the wizard said. "They can be an unruly lot at times. They don't see pretty girls like you all that often around here." Ginny's eyes widened, then narrowed suddenly at the wizard sitting across from her. "Not that I can blame them, of course. If I could take back forty years and knock back another six beers, I might have tried my luck as well. Can't hurt, can it?" 

"What are you doing here, Albert?" Ginny asked with slight annoyance. 

"The same thing I'm always doing," he replied with a light chuckle. He nodded at a small glass in front of him and held up a half-empty bottle in his left hand. "The question that's going though everyone else's heads —chased by a frightening amount of alcohol, I might add— is what _you_ are doing here." 

"I'm here to meet a friend," Ginny whispered. 

"Ah, are you?" laughed Albert. "Well, no offense, but I'd say any friend who's likely to be meeting you here is a friend you might not want." 

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I'm here to meet Josef," she whispered. 

"Why are you whispering?" he whispered in response. When Ginny frowned, he leaned back in his chair and let out an echoing laugh. "What's the point?" he added loudly. "No one cares. They're all so drunk they'll barely remember they were here, much less you." Then without warning, Albert stood up, and addressed the pub in a loud voice: 

"_I am an agent of a secret organization who has been protecting wizards from evil for thousands of years!_" 

A chorus of laughs erupted across the room. From one of the large tables, an old wizard shouted over the laughter: "Bah!" he cried. "Who cares about evil? Just tell us how you got the girl!" A second wave of laughter rolled through the room and gradually died as Albert took his seat again. 

He pulled out an extra glass and began filling it with the bottle he always carried with him. "Come on, then. Drink up and tell me about this Joseph bloke. Is he selling you something? Smuggled in some asp venom, perhaps?" 

"No. Bad things are happening. Josef and I needed someplace private to meet." 

Albert sighed and shook his head. "Ginny, Ginny, Ginny," he said disapprovingly. "Attractive Ministry employees like you should not be meeting young wizards in a place like this. You're young, pretty, and suitably athletic. You should be having wizards take you to places like Venice or Rio de Janeiro or even Paris." 

"I'm not here for a date," Ginny hissed. "I have business with Josef." 

"Business? Oh, I thought you knew better than that. You shouldn't mix enjoyment with employment, Ginny," he said while wagging his finger at her. "You've got a lot of potential. Any wizard you find at the Ministry is either using you or will end up envious of your success." 

"You know what I meant." 

"Do I?" asked Albert. For a moment he looked truly uncertain. "I know lots of things. For instance, I know what goes through wizards' minds when pretty girls like you agree to meet them at a pub." 

Ginny took a deep breath and stared at him. A slight twinkle in his eye told her that he was having fun. He already knew why she was there, but he wasn't cooperating for some reason. 

"No games. Not tonight, Albert." 

"Why not?" he asked dramatically. "I admit I feel some responsibility. If it weren't for me, you would not have met him." 

"If it weren't for you, I wouldn't even be alive," Ginny grumbled. 

"That's a trade that isn't as obvious as it first appears," replied Albert. He emptied his glass, then dropped it back on the table. "I've been told many times that people would rather I was dead than meet them again." He paused, and stared at his bottle. "Of course, that's not really the same thing, is it? I wager it's close enough." He began filling another glass. "I suppose it doesn't matter. It is my fault —I've been told that many times as well— so I feel some obligation to warn you." 

"Warn me about what?" she asked impatiently. 

"The world," he proclaimed with a wild gesture. "It's a dangerous place. It's too bad you missed the _Prophet_ today. Some really unsettling things have been happening. You would have found them terribly interesting." 

"I think I've already heard about it, thanks," said Ginny. "Josef said he would meet me here. Have you seen him?" 

"Are you sure you don't want to just sit here and enjoy some excellent spirits with a good friend? I'm sure I am much more entertaining than he is. Of course I am also older, but that means I have much more money, as well. I could buy you a whole barrel of your favorite cider, if you want." 

"No, I don't," she said with restrained annoyance. "I just want Josef." 

Albert let out grunting laugh. "Really? I'm sure he would be flattered to hear that. However, it's not like you to be so aggressive. Are you certain you haven't been slipped a love potion?" 

"I'm positive." 

"Love potions are dangerous things, you know," he told her after draining another glass. "Once, I was on a ship transporting a load of potions from Greece to the Black Sea. We ran into a horrible squall and I was dumped overboard with three crates, including a number of love potions. I was fine —I was holding my breath, of course— but it seems that the storm had coaxed a giant squid to the surface, and well... the wizard who made the love potions was as surprised as I was to learn they actually worked on squid." 

"Yes, that's quite entertaining but—" 

"I can only assume they would work on octopuses as well," continued Albert. "They're both rather intelligent creatures. The squid saved me life, you know. But then, I suppose it had to. I imagine it couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to me." 

"Albert, I don't have the time—" 

"It was quite gentle, to tell the truth. Not at all the monster that the old books make it out to be. And yet, it was rather… amorous. The tentacles... they—" 

"That's really quite revolting," interrupted Ginny. "I don't even want to know. If you're not going to help me—" 

Albert recoiled in shock. "What are you on about? A pretty girl like you? I'd love to help you, but I can't say I approve of you going up to some bloke's room in a place like this." 

"Oi! Watch your tongue!" shouted Tom as he delivered a platter of mugs to a nearby table. Albert twisted around in his chair and smiled. 

"No offense, Tom," he shouted, "but you know there are some pretty unsavory types hanging out here." 

Tom smiled and let out a low laugh. "Aye, I do know that." 

"Precisely, and I don't think young Ginny here should be spending time around that sort." 

Tom gave an indifferent shrug. 

Ginny leaned forward and spoke in a quieter voice: "I'll spend time around whoever I wish. You said he was in a room. Just tell me which one and let me worry about my own life." 

"Now Albert," Tom said as he walked over to their table, "Ginny's a fine young woman and more than strong enough to take care of herself." 

"Thank you, Tom," said Ginny. 

Albert slowly put down his glass and put on a hurt expression. "Well you used to have a little more sense," he grumbled. Slowly he looked up until their eyes met. His eyebrow twitched slightly. 

"Say, didn't you know that Potter boy?" he asked 

"I met him a number of times," Tom said. "Why, I remember the very first time he set foot in this place. According to Hagrid, it was the first magical place he'd ever visited. Then, of course, he stayed here a bit when Sirius Black was running loose. A nice boy. Very polite." 

"I wonder whatever became of him?" Albert asked flatly. 

Ginny had to restrain herself from jumping out of her chair and shouting at him. What was he thinking? The last thing she needed was a pub full of people talking about Harry. She glared at Albert and tried to control the anger that was boiling in her stomach. 

"He... he left to deal with Voldemort," she finally answered. 

"No one's heard from him since," Tom added. "Of course, no one's heard from... the other one either, so it wasn't a total loss. That Potter boy was a brave lad. His parents died young, too. Too bad, he would have made a fine wizard." 

"Tragic," commented Albert. "I bet you two would have gotten on famously." Ginny scowled at him and clenched her fists. 

"I'm sure they would have," Tom said. He winked at Ginny as if he knew some secret that Albert did not. 

"I'm serious, Albert," Ginny hissed, no longer caring what Tom overheard. "Don't toy with me tonight. Where is Josef?" 

Tom looked suddenly nervous. Ginny worried that she might have made a horrible mistake, but instead of saying anything else, Tom simply turned around and shuffled off back to the bar, leaving her alone with Albert. 

He leaned back in his chair and held up a glass of liquor to inspect it. "I'd love to help you, but I'm afraid I don't know any Josef," he lied. "Maybe he disappeared like that Potter chap. You might want to tell your Ministry mates. They don't like it when wizards disappear. They're a suspicious lot these days. You could learn a lesson from them in that department." 

"Could I?" she snapped. "Maybe you're the one I should be suspicious of." 

"It wouldn't be a bad place to start," he said before tipping back the glass of liquor. 

Tom reappeared suddenly, speaking in hushed tones: "I'm terribly sorry, Ginny. He came in a while ago saying someone would come looking for him. I— I never thought it would be you." He pulled a single brass key from his pocket and slid it across the table. "Up the stairs. It's the third door on your right." 

Ginny took the key and thanked Tom with a polite voice. She stood up as Albert began pouring himself another glass. Before he had a chance to say or do anything else, she walked away across the crowded floor. 

She made her way to the stairs and slipped past an old wizard and a somewhat younger witch who had fewer teeth than she was missing. She felt slightly guilty about being angry with Josef. He must not have realized how urgent the situation was. When she reached the top of the stairs, she turned to look down and wave at him. Unfortunately, the table they had been sitting at had totally vanished. She searched the room for any sign of Albert, but it appeared that he had gone. After rubbing her eyes to keep herself awake, she turned and began walking toward the room Tom had told her about. 

She found it without any trouble, and as she raised her hand to knock on it, it swung open quickly. Josef was waiting on the other side, and he motioned for her to enter immediately. 

"You're late," he said sharply. 

"I was delayed by Albert," she said. 

"Who is that?" Josef asked. "Does he know why you're here?" 

"He's, er... Aleksey," she replied. "And he knew I was here to see you but he was taking his time in telling me where you were." 

Josef frowned. "Yes, he's being less than helpful tonight." 

Ginny took a moment to look about the room. As far as she could tell, it was completely bare. There was not a single piece of furniture or decoration left, though large discolored patches could be seen on the floor and walls. He must have removed everything in his attempt to be certain that no one was going to be listening to them. 

"I'd ask you to sit down, but I'm afraid the floor is far from comfortable," he explained. "Instead, I will try to be as brief as possible. Is Harry in still in London?" 

"Yes," replied Ginny, "but we're ready to leave as soon as I return." 

"That won't be necessary. However, a good night's sleep will be." 

"Why?" Ginny asked, fearing the worst. "Are we going to have to do a lot of traveling?" 

"Very little." 

Ginny found herself feeling more and more uncomfortable. "Josef, we have to do something. If we just stay on Grimmauld Place, they'll find us. It won't take long. We need to leave. We need to go someplace they won't find us." 

"No," he replied with a slight smile. "If you run, they will follow you. You cannot live like that. Sooner or later, they will find you, and if they find Harry, they will attack him. Once that happens, it won't matter what the outcome is. They will lock him up just for attacking Aurors. You cannot let Reynard find Harry." 

"That's why we have to leave!" 

"No," Josef repeated, "that is why you must _not_ leave. I know Harry. Somehow, he has managed to live his life being both cautious and impatient. Reynard knows this as well, and that is why he has made this move. Right now, you need to help Harry be patient and yet bold." 

"Why are you smiling?" 

"I have an idea," Josef answered. 

"What sort of idea?" 

"First things first," he said in a calming voice. "You have friends you can trust, yes? People who care about Harry? There was a group of wizards who he cared about—" 

"—The Order of the Phoenix—" offered Ginny. 

"—yes," Josef replied with a nod. "We need to contact them—" 

"You tried to kill them," Ginny interrupted as anger flared inside her. "You tried to kill my family." She suddenly remembered the sight of the Burrow smoldering and stepped away from Josef. 

"There is no time for the full story, but I promise you I did not," Josef said with a heavy voice. "I did all that I could. I begged Grigore to let Dragomir and I do it, but he was already suspicious of me. I made sure that everyone escaped, but I could not stop the attack. I hope that someday I might find a way to repay the damage I have done. For now, that must suffice. Please, now is not the time for you to lose faith in me." 

Ginny stared at him and saw the shame behind his eyes. She shook her head. It was late. Albert's ramblings had gotten to her. Josef had already proven that he could be trusted. If he thought he had a way to fix things, the least she could do was listen to him. 

"Alright," she said weakly. "What needs to be done." 

Josef pulled three rolls of parchment from his pocket along with a small quill. "I need you to write three letters. They will trust your handwriting. Pick the three most trustworthy members of this Order and tell them to organize a meeting. We will also need someplace safe to hold this meeting. I'm afraid the _Leaky Cauldron_ will not be suitable this time." 

"They can meet at Hogwarts," Ginny said as she grabbed the first roll of parchment and unrolled it against the wall. 

"That should work so long as the Aurors are not told," warned Josef. 

"When is the meeting?" Ginny asked as she began writing the message to her parents. 

"Tomorrow night," Josef answered. 

Ginny continued writing the note, filling in information from Josef as needed. It was going to be impossible to avoid the Aurors, but if they timed their arrival while Tonks and her partner were guarding the gate, they would be able to sneak past the others. Tonks had repeatedly assured the others that Simon Weller could be trusted. 

When she was finished she started a new message to Professor McGonagall. She tried to include as much information as she could to allow the Headmistress to make whatever preparations would be necessary. The third note she addressed to Mad-Eye Moody, hoping that he would have the time and ability to find anyone McGonagall and her parents could not. 

"I can have these sent out tomorrow morning," she told him. "Pigwidgeon should be able to deliver them all by noon." 

"No, I'll take them," Josef said quickly. "Your owl needs to stay home. I'll send these from a few small taverns in France. They will arrive faster than if a single owl carried them." 

Ginny handed him the rolls of parchment and almost immediately began feeling useless without them. "There's nothing else for me to do?" she asked. 

Josef smiled again. "Oh, I've left the most difficult part for you." 

"What would that be?" she asked warily. 

"You have to convince Harry to show up."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Good news. Chapter 11 is almost ready to go. I just have to finish the final draft edits. It should be ready Monday or Tuesday. 


	11. A Long Awaited Revelation

_This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

**CHAPTER 11**

**A Long Awaited Revelation**

* * *

"I don't like this," Harry grumbled as they walked down the stony path. "How do we know that Reynard won't hear what we've done?" 

"Actually, it'll be better if he _does_ hear about what we're about to do," Josef answered. 

Walking just ahead of him, Ginny turned her head to listen to their conversation. Hermione was walking farther ahead, with Ron beside her. Neither of them reacted to Josef's voice, though Harry guessed they could hear as well as Ginny could. 

"Well, putting me under an Invisibility Cloak seems to be a pretty inefficient way of accomplishing that goal. Why don't we just send him an owl and forget the rest of this?" Harry asked. 

They were approaching the top of the hill they'd been climbing for the last minute, and the closer they got, the more Harry questioned his previous agreement to Josef's plan. He didn't want to think of what was on the other side of the hill. For so long it had been his only home: a place of refuge and comfort and friendship. Now it was those very things which he wanted to run from. 

"You never did have much appreciation for these things, did you?" Josef commented. "Even if someone tells Reynard the moment we arrive, he can't do anything to stop it. He knows he can't capture you there, not with all your friends helping you. If he tries to tell anyone else, he'll have to expose whoever is spying for him." 

"You're joking?" snorted Harry. "He's _killed_ people. You think he'll be upset if one of his cronies is exposed? He'd probably end up next to Marcus's son and no one would ever know why." 

"I doubt it," Josef argued. "Remember, he's trying to make it look like you're the guilty one. Any underhanded activity is only going to make it harder for him to convince the Minister. We want him to know. We want him to tell the Minister how dangerous you are." 

"Brilliant. I know I was getting tired of being hunted by only a hundred wizards. It will be so much better when I have all of Britain despising me." 

"They won't despise you," Josef replied. "You're a hero, Harry. Reynard needs to catch you running or hiding. He needs you to appear cowardly, deceitful, and guilty. Then he'll be able to tell the world how far you've fallen. If you reveal yourself peacefully, everyone will be too busy celebrating to care what a bitter old man says. They'd probably give you his job if you asked." 

"That seems overly optimistic." 

"You're bloody Harry Potter," said Josef. "How could anyone _not_ love you?" 

"You'd be surprised," growled Harry, remembering his fifth year at Hogwarts. 

Hermione spoke up from ahead of him. "I know what you're thinking, Harry. Things have changed. That won't happen again. Even if Reynard was able to convince Scrimgeour, no one else would believe it. I spent the last year looking for you. I talked to a lot of people about you, and the majority of them _wanted_ to believe you were alive. They want a hero again." 

"And that's supposed to make me feel better? I think I liked it better when the Brotherhood was chasing me. At least I was allowed to hex them." 

"Blimey, you whine a lot," commented Ron. "If you're having trouble deciding between being famous and being locked away for the rest of your life, then we've got problems." 

"It's not that simple, Ron." 

"It really is, Harry." 

"How am I supposed to do it then?" Harry replied. His voice was a little sharper than he had intended. "Just Apparate into the Ministry and ask to speak to the Minister? Where am I supposed to go where I won't get jumped by Aurors the instant someone recognizes me? If I reveal myself to the Order, Reynard will know about it. They'll all be in as much danger as I am." 

The five of them stopped just short of the top of the hill which overlooked the main gate to Hogwarts. Harry held his Invisibility Cloak in one hand, and stared at it. He could still turn back. If he put the Cloak on, there was little that any of them could do to stop him. Josef was staring at him with a knowing gaze. 

"Look, Harry," he said in a calming voice. "No matter how we do it, this is how it has to start. Reynard already knows these people are your friends. If he doesn't find you soon, he'll find them and either turn them against you, or see that they never turn against him." Josef didn't need to say just how Reynard would do that. "If they all know, they can work together to help each other. They can work to help _you_." 

"I know," Harry admitted. "I know we have to tell them, I just wish we could do it some other way." 

"What is it that you're afraid of?" Josef asked with a raised eyebrow. "Is it the danger you might be putting them in? Or are you worried they'll be upset that you didn't tell them earlier?" 

"Does it matter?" Harry asked. He slowly slipped the Invisibility Cloak around his shoulders, leaving only his head visible. 

"Well, one is more entertaining than the other," Josef replied with a smirk. "I must admit I do find it somewhat appropriate that you pay for your mistakes. You should have told them immediately after Halloween, Harry. Nothing Grigore could have done would have been worse than what you went through over the next ten months." 

"That's easy for you to say." 

"Yes, it is. My mind wasn't clouded by emotions. I was able to think clearly, just like I am now. It would have worked then, and it will still work now. You must trust me." 

"Fine," Harry grumbled as he pulled the cloak down over his face, "but I still don't like it." 

"You never like any of my plans," Josef spoke into the empty night air. 

"That's because you always leave out some critical part," Harry shot back. "Usually it's the part where I risk my life." 

Josef attempted to hide a smile. "Right, well if I told you about that beforehand you'd never agree to the rest of the plan."

* * *

As they walked down the hill toward the main gate, Ginny tried to keep track of where Harry was. There was a real possibility that he might turn and run back to Grimmauld Place —or farther. She had seen his hesitation while putting on the Cloak. If he turned back, she would have to act quickly to make sure he didn't disappear again. She'd been looking over her shoulder for the past few minutes, trying to catch any sign of him. 

"He's up ahead of us, now," whispered Josef as he appeared along side her. He pointed off to the side of the path ahead of Hermione. Though the night air was almost perfectly still, she could see some of the taller grasses swaying gently. 

"I'm worried about him," she whispered back. "There's something bothering him, but he won't tell me about it. I— I don't want him to leave again." 

"He won't," he assured her. "You might not have seen him, but he has been keeping an eye on you. He knows what you went through. You deserve better than that, and he knows it." 

Josef didn't say anything more. He seemed deep in thought as they reached the bottom of the hill. Ginny's eyes searched the ground again and found signs that Harry was still walking ahead of them. She lost him again once they approached the gate. She assumed that he would take a less visible path to the gate and meet them there. 

As McGonagall had promised, they were met at the gate by Tonks and Simon. There was very little said between the two groups. They questioned Josef for only a moment, and as soon as Ginny and Hermione vouched for him, they let all of them through without any more discussion. 

Once past the gate, Ginny began searching for Harry again. She found him again when they were halfway to the castle. His boots were far quieter than any other boots Ginny knew about, but there was little they could do against the small pebbles which were scattered about the stone courtyard. Anyone else watching would have ignored the faint noise, but Ginny recognized its source, even though she couldn't see it. 

McGonagall was waiting for them at the front door. She ushered them into the castle quickly, leading them through the Entrance Hall and up the stairs immediately. At the top of the stairs were Lupin and Valencia. They joined the group silently and began making their way to the next flight of stairs. Lupin and McGonagall were leading the group and whispering about something Ginny couldn't hear. Valencia had allowed herself to drift to the back. 

"Is, er... everyone here?" Ginny asked quietly. 

"Yes, you're the last to arrive." 

It took a little more courage to ask the next question. "Is... _he_ here?" she asked in a whisper so low, she could barely hear herself. 

"Yes," the librarian replied. "He's on the other side of the Romanian." 

Josef was walking next to her, but didn't react. Ginny looked over to the empty space next to him, knowing she wouldn't be able to see anything. She let out a relieved sigh. "There haven't been any problems? Nothing strange or unexplained?" 

"Everything seems to be going smoothly," she whispered to Ginny. "Tonks and Weller are supposed to finish their shift at midnight and patrol the castle until tomorrow morning. They're going to report to the Room of Requirement instead. The rest of them are already there. Lupin said they are a getting a little tense. It would probably be best if you spoke to them a bit before... the introduction." 

"I suppose so," Ginny replied. "Should we tell McGonagall and Lupin first? It might help—" 

"It's not worth the risk," whispered Josef. "The only Aurors we can trust are guarding the gates. They'll find out with the rest." 

Valencia nodded. "I suppose it's time for me to go, then." She crossed behind Ginny and Josef, and bowed her head politely toward them. "Good luck," she said in a gentle tone. "I will see you soon." Ginny saw her whisper something, but she couldn't make out the words. Valencia announced her departure to the Headmistress, promising to return shortly. This obviously annoyed McGonagall, but she didn't put up any resistance. 

Ginny felt her heart beating faster as she watched Valencia walk away. It was really going to happen. Harry was going to be back. Everyone was going to know. There would be no more reason to hide or keep secrets. They could prove that Harry hadn't done anything wrong, and that Reynard was the one responsible. 

They could live a normal life. 

It was both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. It had been so long since she had been able to dream of anything like a normal life. From the first moment her lips had touched Harry's she had pushed any such thoughts from her mind. Harry had Voldemort to deal with. There was a war. It had been silly to plan for anything like a normal life. 

Then, just as everyone else was celebrating the return to their normal lives, Ginny had her dream shattered again. He had disappeared and left her alone in a world that could never understand that she had lost the only thing that she needed to make herself happy. The pain and hollowness were nearly unbearable. Until now, she had lived a half-life, able to remember her dreams but unable to ever achieve them. 

Kingsley Shacklebolt was waiting for them outside the door to the Room of Requirement. Without saying anything at all, he opened the door and motioned for them to enter. As Ginny neared the doorway, she saw the group of people waiting inside turn to watch them. A gentle hand came down on her shoulder, and a deep voice spoke softly in her ear. 

"It'll be alright," Josef said. "Trust me." 

Ginny stepped through the doorway. It felt more like stepping into another life. If she had any chance at a normal life with Harry, that moment would be its start. She heard the door close behind her. Shacklebolt and McGonagall were speaking in hushed tones behind her. He mentioned Tonks, and McGonagall said something about Valencia returning soon, but Ginny was too distracted to hear what they had said. 

The Room of Requirement was uncomfortably empty. Whoever had asked for it had wanted little other than someplace private to meet. The walls were covered with drab and worn wallpaper and the floor was a rather utilitarian looking stone tile. The members of the Order were arrayed in a rough semi-circle around one of the corners which they seemed to have decided was the best place for someone to speak from. 

Ginny searched the small audience for familiar faces. It was easy to see that not everyone had been able to make it. The most obvious absence was Hagrid. However, for every person Ginny failed to find, there was someone new she didn't recognize. As she searched for a place to sit, she realized that everyone appeared to have summoned their own chairs. In confirmation of this, she watched as Lupin walked to the front of the group and flicked his wand three times. Three chairs burst into existence with a shower of golden sparks. He flicked his wand once more, creating a taller, richly carved chair next to the wall. McGonagall strode past them a second later and thanked him before sitting down in the beautiful chair. 

Huddled in a group along the other wall was a collection of oddly clothed wizards with matching red hair. Fred and George wore dark green cloaks which looked to be made of dragon skin. Bill was standing next to them with Fleur on his arm. Looking over the back of a paisley sofa was her father, but she couldn't find her mother. 

"Ginny!" a voice cried out. A moment later, her mother crashed into her and enveloped her in a tight hug. "Oh, Ginny, you're alright. You are alright, aren't you?" she asked with sudden concern. 

"Yes, mum, I'm fine." 

"You're fine?" her mother repeated, a hint of annoyance creeping into her voice. "Messages like that are not written by witches who are _fine_, Ginny. If you're in trouble, you need to come to us sooner. You've gone through quite enough the last few months. I think it's time you came back to the Burrow. Bill and your father have repaired most of the damage. I'd feel much better with you nearby. You wouldn't get in quite as much trouble if you had someone to keep an eye on you." 

"I don't think it would really matter where I was, mum," Ginny said flatly. 

"Then it's settled," her mother replied. "I'll fix up your room while you and Bill collect your things." 

"Mum, can we talk about this later?" Ginny groaned. Her mother protested, but was interrupted by the opening of the door behind them. All talking in the room stopped suddenly as everyone turned to look at the new arrivals. It was Tonks and Simon Weller, both of them looking slightly out of breath, as though they'd run all the way from the gate. 

"Has it started?" Tonks panted. "Did we miss anything?" 

"No," answered Lupin. "I believe you were all that we were waiting for. Valencia said she'll be along shortly. I think we should get started." 

It was time. Ginny found a clock hanging near the door. It was only a few minutes past midnight. She wasn't sure how long it would be until Valencia would arrive with Harry and didn't know just what to say until then. It had seemed like a good idea a few minutes ago, but now that she was faced with the reality of trying to speak to the Order, she had no idea what to do. 

Reluctantly, she followed Ron and Hermione to the corner everyone had assembled around. To her dismay, they stopped at the front and sat down in a pair of chairs summoned by Hermione, leaving her standing alone in front of the rest of the Order. Only Josef was still nearby, though he was leaning against the wall near Ron and Hermione. 

Ginny stared out at the group of witches and wizards arrayed around her. They were all watching her, waiting to hear the reason she had called them all together. Her mother had taken her seat and was now giving her a piteous look, as though Ginny was about to announce some horrible news. Behind her, Alastor Moody's magical eye was wiggling slightly as though searching her for some clue as to the topic of the meeting. 

This had been Josef's idea. She turned to find him watching her with an apologetic look. With one last look toward the Order, she turned and walked over to him. 

"What am I supposed to say to them?" Ginny whispered. 

"Perhaps you might consider telling them that their friend is still alive," he replied in a voice that even she could barely hear. 

"And how am I supposed to do that? Half of them already believe I'm delusional. If I tell them that, they'll think I've lost my mind." 

"Why not tell them the story of how you found out?" 

Memories of her reintroduction to Harry flashed though her mind. She shook her head vigorously. "I'd rather they think I'm mental." 

"Is there a problem?" Lupin asked from behind her. 

Slowly Ginny turned to face the Order again. They were looking even more curious before, but it was now mixed with some amount of suspicion of the man she had been talking to. "I, er... I don't really know how to start. It's not the sort of thing that's easy to explain." 

"Perhaps you can explain why _he_ is here," Lupin suggested. 

"He's, er... my bodyguard, I suppose." 

"Is there some reason why you think you need a bodyguard around us?" he countered. Before she could answer, he continued speaking: "We didn't survive the war with Voldemort by letting everyone invite whoever they were dating this week to our meetings." 

"He's not my boyfriend," Ginny insisted, though she realized how unconvincing it sounded. 

McGonagall spoke up, offering stronger support: "Whatever relationship they might have, Remus, I have been reassured by Madam Desmoda that Mr. Kantos can be trusted." 

Lupin was unimpressed. "I trust Valencia, but her opinions of a wizard she has only met once are not enough to make me trust him." His eyes darted toward Ginny's family for a moment, before returning to the Headmistress. "We have to be more cautious, Minerva. Don't forget that we were attacked only weeks ago. Some of us are known and we can't change that, but if we let anyone into these meetings, we might as well publish a list of members in the Prophet. I liked Mr. Kantos much more when he did not know about all of us." 

"Then you should still like me, Mr. Lupin," Josef commented, "because I knew your names and affiliations long before you ever heard of me. I know that Rubeus Hagrid is not here. I assume you didn't even try to contact him. The owl would not have arrived for at least another two hours. George Liggett is also absent. The Ministry extended his stay in Norway by an extra day." 

Lupin's eyes widened. "What do you—" 

"As for any attacks, you have little to fear for the near future, least of all from me. Please accept my most sincere apologies for whatever damage I have caused your home, Mr. and Madam Weasley. I will understand if you do not accept my help in repairing it, but allow me to pay you for anything not easily repaired." 

Ginny had already known that Josef had been involved in the attack on the Burrow, but even she was not prepared for him to state it so bluntly. Her mother's mouth dropped open, and her father leaped up from the sofa. Next to them, Ginny's brothers were reaching for their wands. 

"That was my family!" yelled Bill. "How dare you—" 

"Put down your wand, Bill," warned Josef in an even tone. "Your anger is understandable, but misplaced." 

"I think you're the one who's misplaced," replied Bill as he leveled his wand. "Leave," he ordered. "You're not welcome here. Remus, call the Aurors. I believe the Ministry will be interested to hear about him." 

"That would not be wise," Josef said. His voice was outwardly calm, but Ginny had come to recognize that this often hid his growing anger. Slowly, he had stepped away from the wall and slipped his hand into his pocket. "I have no ill will toward any of you. Now, I beg you, put away your wand." 

Bill's eyes found Ginny as he stared at her, she knew that he wasn't listening to Josef any more. A quick glance at the rest of the Order revealed a similar sentiment. In the back, Daedalus Diggle was inching toward the door. When she looked back at Bill, she found Fred and George inching apart to get a clear view of Josef. 

"Bill, just relax," Ginny pleaded. "He's here to help. Trust me." 

"He tried to kill us, Ginny," Bill said through clenched teeth. "He and his friends attacked the Ministry. They tried to kill you. They're the ones who've been helping the Death Eaters. They killed Charlie." 

"No, Bill, let me explain—" 

There was a blur of motion off to Bill's side. Fred had pulled his wand and was aiming it off to Ginny's side, toward Josef. For a brief moment, she hoped that he had just done it as a threat. 

"_Stupefy!_" 

Without thinking, Ginny ducked and turned to look where the beam of light had gone. Behind her, she found Josef holding a wand that glowed with a pale golden light. He had slashed it through the air, releasing an arc of yellow sparks which had deflected the spell. Josef took two steps forward and aimed his wand over Ginny's shoulder. 

"_Expelliarmus!_" he shouted. 

She heard an enraged shout from the direction of her brothers. There was a flash of light, followed by a sharp sizzling noise and a hiss of pain from Josef. Ron and Hermione were out of their seats, but neither of them looked like they knew what to do. It was up to Ginny. She had to stop it. 

"_Enfracto!_" shouted someone from the audience. Ginny heard the sickening _crack _from Josef's arm, but he didn't seem to react. 

There was no more time. She did the only thing she could think of. Throwing herself toward Josef, she wrapped one hand around his waist and pulled herself as close to him as possible. 

"_Stop!_" she screamed, holding her other hand between the two of them and the rest of the order. 

Moody was standing, now, and a number of witches and wizards had either ducked or jumped aside to allow him a clear shot at Josef. 

"Get out of the way, girl!" he snarled. 

"Put your wand down, old man," Josef shouted in response. "You are not the first Auror I've faced, and you'll not be the last." 

Mad-Eye Moody grimaced. "I'm sure that poor sod who tried to stop us from leaving the Burrow would have said the same thing. He's dead and we're here, so you might reconsider." 

"Lawrence died because I killed him," Josef announced coldly. "You are here because I helped you escape." Moody's jaw dropped only slightly, but the surprise was more evident in his real eye. 

"And why would you do that?" he asked. 

"Because I knew he would not help me," Josef replied. Ginny could feel the muscles in his back relaxing slowly. "I killed him because he would have killed you," he said in a gentler voice. She felt him lower his arm until it came to rest against her back. "I would have killed the others had you not been able to sneak away unnoticed." 

From his spot near the wall, her father stepped forward. His wand was in his hand, but it remained at his side. "What sort of monster are you?" he asked. "You burnt our home. You tried to kill all of us. Now you want us to believe that you killed your own ally —and would have killed the rest— so we could escape? What was the point of all of it? Do you simply enjoy destruction? It seems an awfully steep price to pay to gain nothing at all." 

"On the contrary, I thought it was a tiny price to pay for the life of your only daughter." 

Ginny let go of Josef and stepped back to stare at him. The purpose of the attack had been to draw Harry out. Was he saying that the alternative had been to kill her? Would Grigore have done that? As she looked into his eyes, she understood. Josef had killed a man to make sure that no one had to find out just what Grigore was capable of. 

"What are you talking about?" Arthur asked. "What does Ginny have to do with—" 

"Everything, I'm afraid," Josef replied flatly. "Trouble has been stalking her for some time now. It is only recently that any of you have become aware of it." The room became silent. Ginny kept her eyes on Josef, but she could feel dozens of people staring at her. 

"I think it's time for you to tell us who you are and why you are here," growled Lupin. 

Josef glanced down at Ginny, silently asking her permission to answer. Her eyes surveyed the rest of the room. They were all jittery and nervous. There was no good way to tell them. She'd failed. Perhaps Josef could do better. Her hands dropped to her sides and she nodded slowly. 

"My name is Josef Kantos," he announced in a clear voice. "I am a special assistant to Minister Debreczeni of Romania, and a member of the Brotherhood of the Sacred Balance. I am here because my partner was Harry Potter." 

"He's lying," George said. "Harry would rather die than join someone like you." 

"I expect you're right," agreed Josef. He looked at Ginny and she saw a trace of sadness in his eyes. "He didn't join us to save his own life. I believe he did it to save hers." 

Lupin stepped forward and began looking from Ginny to Ron and Hermione and back to Josef. "Is that why you've come here? Do you know what happened to Harry?" 

"Oh, I know quite a bit about Harry." 

"He lived, didn't he?" asked Lupin. "He defeated Voldemort and then you lot found him. What did you do to him? What did you turn him into? What has happened that made you come to us? Is he still alive now?" 

"My reasons for coming to you are my own," Josef replied wearily. "If you are curious about what Harry has become or just how lively he is, I suggest you ask him yourself. He raised his left arm to point at the doorway behind them Ginny spun around like everyone else to see Valencia standing alone just inside the doorway with a rather uncertain expression on her face. 

"Bloody hell," whispered Mad-Eye Moody. "It's not possible." 

"What is it?" Lupin asked quietly. 

"It's him," Moody replied in disbelief, "but it can't be..." 

"What are they talking about?" Fred asked. "You're mental if you think he turned Harry Potter into the only witch who's ever made me want to come back to Hogwarts." 

"No, I think it's something even more troubling," commented Lupin. 

Ginny watched the pupil of Moody's magical eye swivel from the door all the way to the corner where she and Josef were standing. There was a faint rustling of cloth, followed by a number of gasps, as Harry pulled the Invisibility Cloak open. 

A shocked hush fell over the room. He stood like that for some time before the first whispers started traveling through the crowd. Ginny's parents were staring at him with expressions of paralyzed jubilation. Fred, George and Bill looked like they couldn't believe what they were seeing. Lupin and McGonagall were sharing a look of concern, as though they weren't quite certain they weren't seeing a ghost. From her seat next to Lupin, Tonks seemed to have taken it in stride. She gave him a bright smile, then closed her eyes tightly as her hair burst into a nice bubble-gum pink. 

"He's alive," Molly said as a tear trickled down the side of her face. 

Harry turned around and gave Ginny a weak smile. She smiled back and stepped closer to him so she could take his hand in hers. There would still be questions, but the worst of it was over. 

There was a brief flash of light and a sharp _clap_. Ginny and Harry both twisted to look behind them and found Josef lowering himself into a dark green, cushioned chair. Ginny let out a short gasp as she saw his right hand clutching at the arm of the chair. It was shaking and covered in blood. 

"Josef! Your hand!" 

"My hand is fine," he replied with a crooked smile. "Feels great compared to the searing pain in my arm." He collapsed back into the chair and reached across his body to pull open a large tear in the upper arm of his robes. Ginny saw a long gash in his arm which was still bleeding. Hermione quickly rushed over to him and pulled out her wand. 

"I thought you were supposed to be the diplomatic one," Harry commented. 

"They're not a very trusting lot," groaned Josef as Hermione prodded him with her wand. 

"So you attacked them?" 

"Better me than you," he replied. "If you would have walked in here any earlier, they would have had you in chains before I could have done anything to stop them. I thought you said the werewolf was a good friend of yours?" 

Harry left Hermione to tend to Josef and Ginny followed close behind him. As he stood in front of the rest of the Order, she could see the same uneasiness in his face that she had felt only minutes ago. As soon as he stopped moving, her mother raced forward to wrap him in a tight hug. Lupin watched with a keen eye. 

"It's him?" he asked her quietly. "You're absolutely certain?" She nodded. Lupin swallowed and took a deep breath. "How long?" 

Ginny's mother released Harry and he and Ginny looked at each other for a few seconds. The idea of lying to him entered her mind, but the look behind Harry's eyes made his intentions clear: It was time to end it. It was time to tell the truth. 

"Why..." Lupin began. His voice trailed off as he stared at Harry. "Why didn't you tell us earlier? Why couldn't you trust us? Why couldn't you trust me?"

* * *

The question echoed inside Harry's mind. It was perhaps the one question he was dreading more than any other. He'd been able to think of answers to almost every other question they might ask him except for that one. It was even more difficult coming from Remus Lupin, the last of his father's friends. 

"I made a mistake," Harry said quietly. He knew everyone was watching and listening to him and it wasn't making anything easier. "I should have tried to find some way. I know that now. I didn't know what to do. I was afraid that if I told you, it would put you in danger. " 

"But it wouldn't put Ginny in danger?" countered Lupin. 

"Ginny found me, and it's put her in more danger than anyone else." 

"What about Ron and Hermione?" continued Lupin. 

"The attack at Chudley happened because the Brotherhood didn't want him to find out about me," Harry explained. "They used Ron to try and keep Hermione and I from telling anyone what was happening." 

"The Brotherhood?" interrupted McGonagall. "What Brotherhood is this? Certainly not the same one Mr. Kantos just claimed to be a part of." 

Harry took a deep breath and summoned a chair for himself. "Yes, the same Brotherhood," he answered. As he sat down in the chair, he saw Josef watching him patiently. Harry understood completely. He had a lot of explaining to do. 

"I _was_ a member of the Brotherhood. Josef and I worked together for three months," announced Harry. "I learned quite a bit in those three months. The Brotherhood taught me much of what I needed to know in order to stay alive for the last year. 

"But— the things they did..." stammered Bill. "How could you—" 

"He didn't," interrupted Josef. "Harry hated many of the things the Brotherhood did. He never would have joined us if we hadn't lied to him. Once he learned more about us, I knew his days with us were numbered. He simply refused to do anything he thought might help dark wizards, no matter what the reason. He spent hours arguing with Grigore about it." 

At the mention of that name, Kingsley Shacklebolt sat up in his chair. "Grigore Tarus? He was a member of this Brotherhood? Didn't he just—" Shacklebolt's voice stopped abruptly as his eyes widened. "Grigore Tarus is dead. Ron and Hermione and Ginny disappeared and... Merlin's beard, Harry. Did you kill him?" 

Harry wanted to say no. It would be the truth, and yet, he knew that killing Grigore was exactly what he had prepared himself to do. If he hadn't been swallowed by the gateway, he had little doubt that he would have killed Grigore himself. 

"I would have," he finally said. He saw a wave of shock pass through the wizards around him. "He would have killed Ginny. He would have killed Ron and Hermione and every last one of you —just to find me." Harry leaned back in his chair and saw confusion in Lupin's eyes. 

"It started just after I defeated Voldemort," Harry began. There was no point in trying to answer all of their questions. They needed to hear the full story —or at least most of it. He sat back in his chair and tried to explain everything that had happened over the last year. 

As he tried to explain the things he'd done while working with the Brotherhood, he found himself skipping over some of the things he was less proud of. It wasn't like there was anything terribly evil, yet by the expressions on the faces watching him, he guessed the Order was not really in the mood to hear about the first time he'd stolen gold from the Gringott's Bank in Vienna. He'd told Ginny about one particular incident where he'd stood outside a small cottage in Germany, while five other members interrogated the family of a wizard who'd led an uprising against a band of dark wizards in the area. Harry had never asked exactly what information Grigore wanted, or what they'd done to the family, and he decided now was not the time to examine it in depth. 

Josef seemed to have caught this and a number of other omissions. He said nothing, but Harry could see the amusement in his eyes. There was no malice behind it, rather it felt more like he simply enjoyed the fact that even Harry was not above a little dishonesty in order to make his life easier. 

Knowing this made Harry feel guiltier than he already was. As he summarized the months he spent running from the Brotherhood, he decided that there were a few things that he had to confess. After telling them of how he managed to learn of Grigore's vaults at the London branch of Gringott's bank and convince the goblins to help him, he admitted that he had been the one behind both the odd orders and the mysterious robberies at Fred and George's shop. 

"That was you?" Fred cried. "Blimey! No wonder nothing worked. But wait—" he interrupted himself. "Why rob us if you were the one behind all of the orders from the goblins?" 

"If I would have had them buy everything I needed, it would have been easy for you —and Grigore— to figure out exactly what I was doing," explained Harry. "Also... It became something of a game," he admitted sheepishly. 

"A game?" Fred replied. "Do you have any idea how much gold we lost?" 

"Not as much as we made," George commented in a low voice. "We charged those goblins three times the normal price." 

"Yeah, and we gave them great service for it!" 

The more he explained to them, the more questions they asked. They wanted to know where he'd been and how he had avoided being seen. Tonks and the few other Aurors were very interested in how he'd been able to evade the Ministry even when they had still been searching for him. The answer had been quite simple: He had spent most of his time outside Britain. When you were trying to hide from everyone, it doesn't much matter if you don't speak their language. 

He didn't bore them with the details of all the places he'd run to over the last year. It was always the same story in each place. After a week or so of hiding, there would be a knock at the door or a sudden meeting on the street. Sometimes it was a Brotherhood member, sometimes it was the face of one of his friends being worn by some pawn of Grigore's. 

"Did you... kill them?" Lupin asked hesitantly 

"Some of them died, yes," Harry replied. He turned and saw Ginny staring at him. Her expression wasn't filled with shame or despair as he'd feared. Instead, she was looking at him with pity and sadness. It was the look of someone who knew what it felt like to end another wizard's life. He turned back to Lupin, and tried to continue. "It was always a last resort, and even when I spared their lives, the Brotherhood usually did not." 

Behind him, Josef spoke up: "Grigore hoped their deaths would force Harry to return. I managed to save a few of them. The others were... an acceptable sacrifice. " 

Harry continued his explanation, slowly working toward the events that led to the first attack on the Ministry. Moody and McGonagall were very interested in the Brotherhood's collaboration with the Death Eaters. They began asking a number of questions about the Death Eaters and Voldemort's wand. 

Harry saw where their questions were headed. Molly, Arthur and the rest of the Weasley's had gone silent. It was only a matter of time before they asked how Charlie had gotten involved. Harry paused and tried to think of how he should approach the topic. A quick look at Ron and Hermione didn't help. They just frowned and stared back at him. 

"I didn't know Charlie was going to be there," he began. "I— His death—" 

"—was an accident," Josef finished. "We never meant for him to die. He wasn't supposed to be there. I was supposed to clear the way. We never meant for any of the Ministry workers to be hurt. If you would like, we can speak more about this later, in private." 

The Weasley's accepted this with somber silence and as Harry turned to look at him, he found Josef giving him a commanding look. Josef was right. They should hear the truth about Charlie, but they shouldn't have to hear it in front of the rest of the Order. 

Instead, Harry simply skipped over some of the details. He told them about hiding the wand and quickly jumped over the events between then and the second attack on the Ministry. From that point, the other Order members were able to start filling in the story for themselves. 

For the first time that night, the Order began explaining things to Harry. They told him about the panicked messages that Arthur and Molly had sent out when they heard rumors that Ginny had been at the Ministry during the attack. They quickly related the story of the doomed meeting at the Burrow and their flight from the attack. 

They quieted down again as he started explaining the attack on the castle in Romania. Here Ron and Hermione added occasional details. Ginny remained completely silent, though. She appeared to be deep in thought and concentrating on everything he said. 

"So that is how he died," Shacklebolt said after Harry told them about the other Veil room. "Why didn't the Romanians announce it right away? Were they trying to get rid of the rest of the Brotherhood?" 

Harry heard Josef let out a short laugh. When he turned around to glare at him, Josef looked unabashed. "No, they weren't," Harry replied. "The Romanian Ministry _is_ the Brotherhood —the important part, anyway." 

"But their leader is dead—" Moody started. 

"Grigore was never part of the Brotherhood," Josef corrected him. "He simply led us. His death did nothing to weaken the Brotherhood. In fact, it almost certainly made it stronger." 

"So what about this Debreczeni chap? What happens when he figures out that his ministry is filled with dark wizards." 

"We are not dark wizards," Josef snapped. "And Dragomir already knows about us. He's known about us since before I was born." 

"Bloody hell," Shacklebolt swore. "He's one of them, then. Is he the one behind these attacks? Is that why they started up just after Tarus died?" 

"I'm starting to like that Tarus bloke more and more," commented Mad-Eye Moody. "At least he was discrete. Dark wizards these days have no subtlety." 

Josef groaned. "We're not—" 

"Yes, yes," barked Moody. "You're not dark wizards, you just use dark magic to torture and kill innocent wizards. And, of course, since it seems you've been helping Harry fight them, you're something of a traitor." He scratched his chin and squinted at Josef. "I'm not sure whether that makes me respect you more or less." 

"The Brotherhood is not our enemy," Harry declared. The room filled with murmurs as everyone began quietly discussing how likely it was that Harry had lost his mind. He spoke in a louder voice: "I know how it looks, but believe me, the Brotherhood is not our enemy. Maybe Grigore was, but he's gone now. Josef and Dragomir helped us get rid of him." 

"What about these attacks? They're not involved?" Lupin asked. 

"No," Harry replied, "and yes, I'm certain of that." 

"Who else could it be?" Moody asked. 

Harry was about to answer, but Lupin did it for him. "Auguste Reynard," he announced. "We think he might be performing a series of rituals that cause the results we've seen. Perhaps they are just experiments for something bigger." 

"But how—" 

"We don't know how," Lupin answered before Moody could finish. "Unless Harry has some information he hasn't told us. I suspect if he did, he'd have found some way to tell us about it earlier." He looked at Harry with a knowing expression. "You were in the Library, weren't you? Vink could smell you. That's why Valencia was acting strangely and why Ginny knew just how to lead us to the right answers." 

A barrage of questions erupted across the room. It was obvious that the information they had found had remained a secret to everyone except the Headmistress. Together, Lupin and Valencia explained what they found. Valencia added a number of other pieces which even Harry had not known about. 

"So, our fears were correct," Kingsley commented. "These attacks aren't just isolated attacks. They are probably the first steps in the emergence of yet another dark wizard. What do we do now?" 

"Nothing," Harry answered. "You need to pretend like you know nothing more than you did before." He took a minute to explain what Ginny had heard at the meeting with the Minister. "I will be disappearing for a few days. I'll show myself to the Ministry soon, but until then Reynard will have Aurors hunting me. Some of them may come to you for information. There is a good chance they'll know that you were here, and they may assume that you know where I am. You must not tell them anything, no matter what they threaten you with." 

Harry had expected another flurry of questions, but the rest of the Order simply exchanged a few understanding glances and waited for him to continue. Unfortunately, there really wasn't much more. With an awkward shrug, Harry sat back in his chair and turned to Lupin and McGonagall. After a few more seconds of silence, the Headmistress rose and faced the group. 

"It appears that is everything for now," she said. "If Mr. Kantos is correct, we cannot trust the Aurors, so please show caution when leaving. The Fireplace in the Hospital Wing is connected to the Floo Network, but only for exiting. Valencia has offered her fireplace to a small number of people with the warning that they would end up in Spain and need to Apparate home. 

"How do you plan on getting back to London?" she asked Harry. 

"I don't," he answered flatly. Ginny's head spun around, sending her hair twirling in a crimson arc behind her face. "I need to leave Britain," he continued. "It's not safe here." 

"What? No!" Ginny exclaimed. "It's only for a few days. You hid here for a week after Grigore died. You—" 

"No one was looking for us, then," he replied. "They are now." 

"Then I'm going with you." 

"No, you've got to stay here and go about your life," Harry said calmly. "They're going to be following you. If you come with me, you'll be doing exactly what they want. I need to go, if only for a few days. Josef agrees." 

Ginny's eyes narrowed as she looked past Harry to Josef. "You told me he would be able to stay." 

"I said it was possible," Josef replied. "I didn't say it would be wise." 

"You knew he was going to leave! You only told me that to keep me from arguing with you!" 

"Yes, he has a history of doing that," commented Harry. He turned to the Headmistress, and tried to ignore the hurt expression on Ginny's face. "I'll need someplace to hide for a few hours. I shouldn't be seen anywhere until everyone here has returned to their homes." 

"You can stay in the old staff rooms," offered Professor McGonagall. "If I'm right, you won't be needing a guide." Harry smiled weakly and nodded. "I'll talk to Justinian and see that he schedules a lesson near the gates. You can follow the students out there tomorrow morning." 

Ginny stared at him with eyes filled with fear. "I'll come back," he promised. "It's only for a few days, I swear." Her head dropped and she nodded limply. Her mother walked forward to comfort her. 

"Come on, then, Ginny," Molly called. "Let's go home. Everything will be alright." 

Ginny stood up, but didn't move toward her mother. Her eyes slid over toward her brothers, then back to Josef. Harry's jaw clenched as a wave of icy fear gripped him. He'd nearly forgotten, but Josef hadn't. 

"Mr. Weasley, Madam Weasley," Josef announced softly. "If you and your family would stay a moment, there is something more I wish to speak to you about. I'm afraid it is rather important." 

The rest of the Order slowly filed out of the room, leaving only Harry, Josef, Hermione and the Weasley's. Harry collapsed into his chair again, and leaned forward. 

"There's something I need to tell you about Charlie," he said weakly.

* * *

With a dull flash, Grimmauld Place appeared around her. It was dark and cloudy. A chilly breeze ran along the street. Ginny barely noticed. She was still numb from the night's meeting. Having to sit and watch Harry explain her brother's death had been hard enough, but it had been even harder to walk out of the castle knowing that she was leaving Harry behind, and that soon, he would be leaving her behind. 

Ron and Hermione walked ahead of her in complete silence. Part of this was due to emotional explanation Harry had given, and part of it was because of a vague warning that Josef had given them as they left. Ron had claimed Josef was being paranoid. Now that they were back in London, he was searching the street just as much as they were. 

"There," he hissed. "To the left, by that old willow tree." 

Ginny's eyes darted over to the left. It took her only a second or two to spot the darker shadow against the trunk of a gnarled willow tree down the street. Josef had been right. They were already following her. If Harry had come back with them, he would have had no choice but to leave immediately. Harry had made the right decision, but that knowledge only made the smoldering anger inside her burn brighter. 

As she laid in bed that night, her fury subsided, replaced by another, much stronger emotion: sadness. She'd lived without Harry for a year. She could handle a few days, couldn't she? It didn't seem like it should be a problem, and yet, she couldn't get to sleep. The room felt empty without Harry. Her life felt empty.

* * *

She awoke the next morning to weak sunlight filtering through the curtains across the room's only window. It hurt to blink, and her body ached and complained at the effort to stand up, but she ignored all of it. She was consumed with one thought: She needed to get to Hogwarts. 

She quickly dressed and cleaned up, eating whatever breakfast she was able to make as she passed through the kitchen on her way out of the old house. Ron stared at her with bleary eyes as she strode past the staircase. She left before he even had a chance to ask her where she was going. He wouldn't have liked the answer anyways. 

After Apparating to the small clearing near the path to Hogwarts that Josef had told them about, she walked quickly toward the main gates. The muscles in her side were cramped and sore, but she didn't slow down. Perhaps it would be good for her to get used to more walking and running. She had been doing quite a bit of it lately. 

The Aurors at the gate stared at her strangely, but let her pass. The grounds were nearly empty. She couldn't remember the last time she had walked the Hogwarts grounds that early, but it gave the castle an oddly abandoned feel. As she passed the groundskeeper's cabin, she noticed movement behind it. 

"Justinian?" she called out, hoping it had been him. 

She heard a crash followed by harsh swearing. There was a flash of light followed by the sound of heavy boots on grass. 

"Ginny?" he called back as he appeared around the small cabin. "What are you doing here?" 

"Your first class," she started asking immediately, "when is it? Have I missed it?" 

"What? No," he replied sounding almost annoyed. "The students are barely awake. My first class isn't for another hour. You know that." 

He was right. It had been a foolish question, but she wasn't thinking properly. "Are you, er... doing anything special?" she asked. "I mean, are you going anywhere—" 

"Yes," he said in a low voice. "The Headmistress suggested it might be a nice day to do something more advanced with the third years. I'm going to show them how to deal with pixies —other than killing them—" he growled as he tossed a nasty look over his shoulder. He gave her a piercing look. "I figured I'd take them out to the gate. The Aurors there will be able to help if there are any incidents." 

Ginny thanked him and continued walking toward the castle. For the first time in weeks, there was no one to meet her at the main door. She slipped into the castle silently and made her way to the Hospital Wing. As an excuse for her arrival, she told Madam Pomfrey that she had come to check on Miraphora's recovery. 

Though she seemed a little suspicious of Ginny's arrival, she began a rather long explanation of the young girl's current situation. She was still quite pale, though it was no longer the truly disturbing greyish shade it had been. The dark patch on her forehead had all but disappeared, replaced instead with a patch of red, tender-looking skin. This, however, was slowly healing according to Madam Pomfrey. 

Her arms and legs were still in the same position they had been since the last time they'd laid her down, but apparently, her eyelids would twitch if her feet were tickled. Ginny didn't see why the ability to torment the girl in her sleep was such an improvement, but Madam Pomfrey seemed very excited about it. 

After quite some time, Ginny noticed the time on a nearby clock. Cutting her conversation short, she excused herself and ran off for the Entrance Hall. The students would be finishing breakfast and she needed to time her departure just right. 

She arrived at the main door to Hogwarts and found Professor McGonagall waiting for her. She gave Ginny a stern look, but said nothing. Ginny just ignored her. She didn't need anyone to tell her that she shouldn't be there. She knew that, and yet she couldn't help herself. She needed to be there. She needed to say goodbye. 

As the students filed out of the castle, she followed them. A few of them were whispering about her, and many more of them were watching her with curiosity. She loitered around Justinian's cabin until he led the students out to the gate. When they reached the gates, Ginny saw a number of wooden cages holding pairs of small blue pixies. She politely refused Justinian's offer to allow her to help with the lesson, and claimed that she was just going to watch for a few minutes. 

As the lesson progressed, the students eventually got their chance to try and retrieve and recapture the pixies. As she expected —and Justinian had undoubtedly planned— some of them were more capable than others. As pairs of pixies zipped off across the grounds, the Aurors would step away from the gates to immobilize them. Ginny kept a close eye on the area, hoping to find some sign of Harry leaving. 

Halfway through the lesson, Ginny felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. She spun around wildly and nearly screamed when she came face to face with Justinian. 

"I believe I have something for you," he said in a gentle voice. In his hands were five roses with bright red-orange petals, matching the color of her hair. 

She stared at them for a moment. "Why—" 

"I found them by the gate," he whispered. "I suspect they were meant for you."

* * *

Ginny returned to Hogwarts the next day. She said she was checking on Miraphora, but the truth of it was that she hoped that if there was any news of Harry, it would make its way back there. Instead, she was treated as though she always arrived at the castle. There was no one to meet her at the door and fewer and fewer students were paying attention to her as she walked about the castle. 

If Miraphora had improved, it was impossible to tell. She looked almost exactly like she did the day before, except for a slight lightening in the mark on her forehead. A closer inspection revealed that the mark actually seemed to be formed around a small scratch. The scratch itself seemed to have healed long ago, but it had left an inflamed looking scar. It was pointless to ignore the similarity to Harry's scar, but it was just another unexplained link to Harry. 

She returned the following Friday to find the situation had changed very little. Madam Pomfrey was beginning to get suspicious of her visits, since even Hermione had stopped checking on Miraphora's progress. Ginny dismissed any of her questions. She wondered if the older witch knew the real reason why she kept returning, but decided it didn't matter. 

After sitting by Miraphora for a half hour, she stood up and said a polite goodbye to Madam Pomfrey. She nodded in response as she always did, and Ginny slipped out of the hall. She left the castle without seeing anyone else. It was as if Harry had simply disappeared from everyone's minds just as quickly as he had appeared. Even Ron and Hermione weren't talking about him. 

As she walked through the empty courtyard, she tried —as she had many times over the last two days— to convince herself that Harry hadn't left forever. Had the five roses meant something? Were they some message she was supposed to be deciphering? Was he in trouble? Was he waiting for her? 

"Ginny!" cried a voice from across the expanse of dull green grass. 

Ginny turned to see a dark-haired wizard in heavy green robes running toward her. It took her a few moments to recognize Neville's face. It was flushed and gasping for air as he trotted to a stop near her. 

"Hi," he panted as he bent over. "Professor Sprout said she saw you leave the castle, and I was afraid I was going to miss you." 

"Oh," she replied confusedly. "Well... I'm glad you didn't." 

"Me, too," he said while nodding his head energetically. He took a few more deep breaths and then slowly stood up and smiled at her. "I wanted— It's been a long time... I wanted to talk to you," he tried to say between breaths. 

Ginny was hardly in the mood to chat up an old friend. "I know it's been a while, Neville, but right now isn't a good time." 

"Oh, for me too," he assured her. "I've just brought in a fresh delivery of plants to Professor Sprout. There was a whole crate of Mandrakes and a few of the pots broke and— well, that's not even as bad as the tarsap parsnips. We'll be lucky if we can get any of them out of that barrel. I paid some chap to fly them here on a broom. It's supposed to be easier on them than the Floo, but—" 

"Neville," she interrupted gently. "I'm sorry, but now is _really_ not a good time. I have to—" 

"Oh, of course," he said with a shake of his head. "No, you're right. We should talk later, though." 

Ginny closed her eyes and tried to think of a nice way to tell him that she didn't have the patience to talk to him about his troubles transporting fragile magical plants. "Yes, perhaps," she started to say. "I expect you'll see me around here again. I'll have more time next week." 

Neville looked distressed. "Oh, I thought we might talk tonight." 

"Tonight's not really good—" 

"Is something wrong?" he asked suddenly. His voice dropped and he stepped closer to her. "I mean, all that trouble you were in. I thought it was over." 

"It— It is, I suppose, but—" 

"There's something else, isn't there? That's why she told me to tell you." 

"Who told you to tell me what?" Ginny asked, suddenly interested. 

"McGonagall, of course," he said. "So, this bloke on the broom was talking to me and he told me about... er..." Neville paused and looked about. "Well, she told me I wasn't supposed to talk about it here, but she seemed to think that you'd find it interesting." 

Ginny didn't respond. Her mind was running through the thousands of possibilities. What could he had heard? Whatever it was, McGonagall had thought it was something she would want to hear. She didn't want to wait. 

"I've got a lot to do today," Neville continued, obvious to her inner turmoil, "but we could meet tonight at Diagon Alley," he suggested. "Did you have any plans for dinner? It would be nice to just sit and talk. It's been quite a while since I've been able to talk to any of my old friends. You know, Ron and Hermione haven't been really talkative this last year. Well, I suppose—" 

"Yes," Ginny agreed, cutting him off. "That sounds good. I'll meet you at the Apparation point?" 

Neville's face lit up. "Yeah, that'd be brilliant," he said. "I— I should get back to the... er... the—" 

"The greenhouses?" Ginny finished for him. 

"Yeah," he said with a chuckle. "I should get back to the greenhouses. I'll see you tonight then." He turned around and stumbled slightly before running off toward the greenhouses. 

Ginny turned and walked off in the opposite direction. Her mind was now consumed with even more questions. What news could Neville have? Was it good news or bad news? If there was a real problem, wouldn't McGonagall come to her directly? Why would they send it through Neville? What could it be that McGonagall didn't want Neville to repeat? 

All of these questions were still running through her head as she was milling about near the Diagon Alley Apparation point. The Aurors were trying to act as though they weren't watching her. It had been pointless to try and avoid them. She assumed that Reynard would know she was there, even if those Aurors weren't under his control yet. She'd been waiting there for over thirty minutes. She had nothing else to do, and Hermione had been getting upset with her impatience back at the house on Grimmauld Place. 

Ginny turned to investigate the newest arrival, and found Neville looking back at her with a smile. His hair was nicely combed and he was wearing a nice set of robes trimmed with deep blue. Ginny, on the other hand, was wearing the same set of old robes she'd worn to work that day. He looked at her strangely for a moment, then smiled again. 

"Hello, Ginny." 

"Er, hi," she replied, feeling a little awkward. "Did you want to get dinner at the _Leaky Cauldron_?" she asked lamely. "I think there is a small cafe a little ways from here. I hear it's good." 

"It is," he replied with a nod. "I thought we might go somewhere else, though. There is a place a bit farther along named _Mortimer's_. I hear it's quite good." 

"I heard it's very expensive," remarked Ginny. 

"Oh, don't worry about that. I've got the gold for it." She tried to argue, but he stopped her. "I'm not poor, Ginny. I don't mind spending gold on a— on you." 

His sudden generosity made her feel slightly uncomfortable, but not nearly as uncomfortable as the idea of going to an expensive restaurant looking like she did. She reluctantly agreed to join him so long as he allowed her to stop off at her brothers' shop to fix herself up. 

Fred and George were both surprised and confused by her visit. She slipped into to back room, and assured Lee that she didn't need any help. Working as quickly as she could, she took off her clothes and began transfiguring them into something more suitable for an elegant restaurant. She picked a rich brown for her robes with orange and golden accents. After checking them for various enchantments, a few lengths of cord became the brown satin ribbons she used to tie her hair up behind her head. She checked the final results in a mirror and quickly strode out of the room. 

Fred and George were staring at Neville and he was staring back at them. Lee Jordan was watching passively from behind the counter. It was as if the entire room had become frozen in perpetual confusion. 

"Is everything alright?" Ginny asked. 

"Yeah," George said. "We're all spiffing. Especially him," he added, nodding toward Neville. 

"He's Neville," Fred declared as if this was something Ginny should have told them much earlier. "It's really him. He's Neville Longbottom." 

"Yes, thank you. That's very observant of you, Fred," Ginny groaned as she grabbed Neville's arm and started pulling him out of the story. 

Once out of the store, Neville began asking her why her brothers hadn't recognized him and why they had been acting so odd. "It's probably the side effects of some experimental product," she answered dismissively. "By the looks of it, they need to work on it a bit more." 

"Or a bit less," commented Neville. 

They walked down the street, into the sections that Ginny rarely visited. Most of the popular shops were closer to the _Leaky Cauldron_. The far end of Diagon Alley was usually far less busy. For the most part, this meant that the shops —and shop owners— were more shady than their counterparts near the Apparation point. 

Some shops, however, insisted this was a good thing. Sandwiched between two imposingly large brick buildings was a narrow marble structure that looked rather like a cathedral which had been squashed into the narrow space between its neighbors. This was _Mortimer's_ and in the few months it had been open, it had gained a reputation of being a very difficult restaurant to eat at. However, unlike _Chez Catharina_ in Paris, the main reason for this was the uncomfortably narrow entrance and even more uncomfortably priced meals once you got inside. 

As Neville ducked through the doorway behind her, Ginny got a good look at the interior of the place. The main hall was long and narrow, with a vaulted ceiling rising high above them. The tables were laid out in three rows stretching the length of the hall. Only half of them were filled, yet a dozen waiters could be seen levitating trays of food or wine or empty glasses across the floor. 

Neville and Ginny were directed to a small table in the back of the restaurant by a lanky wizard in a set of crisp black robes. As Ginny moved to sit down, Neville quickly jumped behind her and pulled her chair out for her. She smiled politely and sat down. Neville joined her a moment later. 

"You look really beautiful," he told her with a shaky voice. 

A wave of embarrassment flowed over Ginny. Things suddenly made more sense. She felt stupid for not seeing it earlier. "Thank you, Neville," she said graciously. "You look..." Her voice trailed off for a moment as her mind searched for the correct word to use. It needed to be something that firmly implied that she was here as his _friend_. She had only come to hear what he had wanted to say to her. If that piece of information was nothing more than his desire to express some latent feelings he had for her, then she would do better to leave now. 

And yet, there was still some doubt. He said he had told McGonagall and she had been the one to insist that he find her and tell her. There must be something more to it than just a night at a fancy restaurant. She felt guilty doing it, but she didn't want to risk upsetting Neville. Whatever he knew, it might be important. 

"You look good, too, Neville," she said, forcing herself to smile. 

A minute later a waiter came by to take their order. Instead of ordering a true meal, Ginny insisted on wine first, and Neville agreed easily. As a pair of goblets was filled, Neville began making light conversation. He asked Ginny about her job and she tried desperately to tell him as little as she could. Slowly, she tried to steer the conversation back to what he'd told her at Hogwarts. When she failed for the third time, she decided a blunt approach was necessary. 

"So what was it that you were supposed to tell me at Hogwarts?" she asked as she casually raised her goblet to sip at her wine. 

"Oh, I nearly forgot," Neville replied. "When I was scolding the wizard who was supposed to carry those plants to the school, he gave me some excuse about being slowed down by some trouble they had in Calais." 

"Trouble?" she replied sharply. Her goblet dropped to the table making a loud noise and splashing a number of crimson droplets across the pristine white table cloth. "What sort of trouble?" Her mind could think of only one sort of trouble that McGonagall would think she was interested in. 

"Oh, nothing he had caused," Neville replied with a troubled look. "At least, not according to him. Would you like me to get you another glass of—" 

"No, no, I'll be fine," Ginny said nervously. When she looked up see if anyone else had noticed she saw a single wizard watching them from the shadows some distance behind Neville. As she looked at him, he leaned forward to lift his own glass of wine and Ginny instantly recognized him. Josef had followed her. Why? Wasn't he supposed to be following Harry? As he sat back, Ginny noticed his rather annoyed expression. 

"According to him, there was some sort of trouble in the city the night before. A large estate near the center of town was attacked by a number of wizards. He claimed it was quite a few, but I can't imagine how he'd know that if he was as innocent as he said." 

"Did he describe them?" she asked, trying to look at both Neville and Josef while hiding her fear. 

"He said the French Ministry was claiming they were all British," explained Neville. "Apparently they had gone so far as to claim they were Ministry employees. That's not possible of course. The Minister would know where all of the Aurors are. If Scrimgeour would have sent Aurors into France, he'd be in quite a bit of trouble." 

"You're sure they weren't Aurors?" 

"I doubt it," Neville assured her. "There are a number of odd groups of wizards going about these days. If I had to guess, I'd say it was a group of Death Eaters trying to impersonate Aurors." 

"Why them? Did someone see something?" 

"No, not really," Neville said. A faint smile played across his lips. "I'd guess it was them because they failed so miserably." 

"How... How do you know?" 

"Someone must have heard them coming because they tipped off the French Ministry. They sent their own wizards and when they got there, the wizards who broke in were ripping the place apart. The French wizards didn't capture any of them, but whatever the Death Eaters were looking for, they didn't find it. Pretty common for that lot. They can't seem to do anything well now that their leader is gone." 

Ginny felt a wave of relief pass through her. Whoever it had been, they'd failed. Harry had escaped. He'd probably never been in any danger at all. She took a deep breath and let herself smile brightly. 

Her smile faded a moment later as the saw the look on Neville's face. He was shaking his head and glaring at the table. "Is everything alright?" Ginny asked. 

"No," he grumbled, the quickly corrected himself: "Well, yes, I suppose so, I just... I was trying not to talk about _him_." 

"About Voldemort?" Ginny asked, keeping her voice to a whisper. Some people were still quite sensitive about that sort of thing. 

"No... the other _him_." Neville's jaw clenched as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "About Harry," he said. Before Ginny could interrupt him, he began speaking quickly, as though he was merely repeating something that he had been thinking about for some time. 

"It's been a year, Ginny. I know it's been hard, but you can't keep holding on like you have. I— I know what it's like to deal with that. You don't have to forget him, but you can't keep yourself from living your life. You have friends and—" His voice hitched and he looked up into her eyes. "You have people who want you to be happy. That's all I want. I... I don't know if I can give that to you, but I want to try." 

At the end of the long hall, Ginny saw Josef set his glass of wine down with enough force to send the wine in it sloshing out onto the table. Neville began turning to see what had caught her attention. 

"I'm sorry, Neville," she said quickly, forcing his attention back to her. "I can't. I— This is a bad time—" 

"It's been a bad time for the last year. Haven't you waited long enough?" he said with a touch of bitterness. "Haven't you learned anything from all that's happened in the last month? You can't hide from the rest of the world." 

"No! It's not that, it's just—" As Ginny spoke, she saw Josef stand and drop a few coins on his table. Neville noticed and looked over his shoulder to see Josef frown at them before walking off toward the entrance. 

"Oh, I think I see now," he said despondently. "You haven't been waiting at all. Who is he? Is it that bloke Justinian was asking about? The Romanian? Does he make you happy?" 

"No, well— Yes, that is him, but it's not like that. He's not—" 

"If he truly cared about you, you wouldn't have to keep it a secret," Neville declared with open disgust. "You deserve better than that." Ginny tried to respond, but Neville cut her off. "No, just go. I'm sorry I wasted your time. Just... go." 

Ginny stood up slowly. "It's not what you think, Neville," she told him in a calm voice. "You'll understand soon, I promise." Neville didn't respond. He simply sat in his chair staring at his half-empty glass of wine. Knowing nothing else she could say, Ginny walked away.

* * *

Ginny walked into the Ministry the next morning feeling less than excited about the prospect of yet another day worrying about Harry. She had been encouraged by the news that Harry had easily escaped an attempt to capture him, but even more discouraged by the method used to deliver it to her. She didn't want to go to Hogwarts. She didn't want to risk seeing Neville or having to answer another round of questions from Madam Pomfrey. She just wanted to sit in her office and hide from the world. With any luck, she would be able to find some news from France that might tell her where Harry had been. 

As she walked into the lobby outside the Department of International Magical Cooperation, she saw a small vase of bright pink lilies sitting on Carmilla's desk. As she passed by she stopped to smell them and ran her fingers across the velvety petals. 

"They're beautiful," she said with a smile. 

"They're yours," replied Carmilla without looking up from the roll of parchment she'd been writing on. "The courier said they were from a wizard named Longbottom." 

With a sinking feeling in her stomach, Ginny reached for the small, sealed scroll which was hovering over the top of the bouquet. She ripped the tiny seal and stared at the mysterious message written on the curled parchment: 

_Your office. Midnight._

Just as Ginny wanted, she spent the rest of the day locked in her office avoiding everyone who was looking for her. Around the time she would normally have eaten dinner, a memo slid under her door and flapped over to her desk. It was from Hermione. She said she was worried and didn't know where to find her. Ginny ignored the message and continued eating the small stash of crackers she kept in her office for the days when she simply couldn't take walking past Evelyn's office. 

She read over a number of different wizarding publications from the past days, but nothing seemed to have any connection to Harry other than the events at Calais that Neville had told her about. She was pretty sure that was good news. With a hastily planned meeting from Josef, she could only hope for even better news that night. 

As midnight approached, she found herself getting more nervous. What if Josef was coming to tell her she needed to leave? What if Harry had been caught and he needed her help to free him? What if it wasn't Josef at all and it was just a trick by Reynard to get her alone where no one would be able to help her? Before she was able to think of any other horrible scenarios, there was a soft knock at the door. Ginny drew her wand and slowly opened the door just enough to see who it was. 

Josef was staring back at her through the dim light with his bright blue eyes. She lowered her wand and quickly led him into her office, shutting her door firmly and locking it tightly. 

"That was a foolish thing you did last night," he told her, not even waiting for her to return to her seat. "You shouldn't use people's emotions like that. Beyond being unfair, it is very risky. He may not be so pleased when he discovers that Harry is still alive. The last thing you need right now is another enemy, especially one who spends so much time around Hogwarts." 

"Neville's not my enemy," Ginny replied firmly. "He just made a mistake. I never told him I was interested in him." Of course, she hadn't stopped him immediately once she understood why he had invited her. 

"Nonetheless, you would be wise to keep an eye on him. And I beg you," he said heavily, "please do not do anything like that again. I'm used to Harry doing things without thinking. I expected more of you." 

Ginny's eyes narrowed. "Is that all? You just called me here to scold me like some child?" 

"No, I have good news for you," he announced with a trace of annoyance. "Harry will be returning tomorrow." 

"Returning where?" she asked. "To Grimmauld Place?" In an instant, her anger was replaced with the relief of getting to see Harry again. 

"No, here, to the Ministry," he told her. "There is still much that needs to be worked out. I haven't told Harry what he will need to do, and I don't plan on telling him what part you'll be playing." 

"Why not?" 

"Because Harry is a very clever wizard," Josef replied. "He is quick witted and resourceful and brave and dangerous and all too prone to blindly follow his emotions even when they will only make the situation worse." 

"Like refusing to go someplace where dozens of wizards would be willing to kill him on sight?" 

"Yes, something like that," he replied. "This is the best way. Not only does this give him the best shot at diffusing the accusations about him, but it will weaken Auguste Reynard's influence over the Minister." 

Ginny frowned. "And all Harry has to do is risk his life?" 

"No, if everything goes as planned, the Ministry will be safer for him than any other place in Britain." Ginny was about to argue this fact with him, but he interrupted her. "It's better if I don't explain why. You need to trust me," he said solemnly. "This is the best way. No matter what we do, there are risks. I believe this way is our best chance, but you must have some faith in me." 

She sat down at her desk and stared down at her own hands. Josef had always helped her through whatever danger she was facing, even when she didn't know just which side was her enemy. Harry had trusted him. She'd allowed him to start this plan of his, it seemed unwise to try and stop it now. 

"What do you need me to do?" she asked flatly. 

Josef stared into Ginny's eyes. "Two days from now, I'll need you to walk into the Department of Mysteries. Alone."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

I told you I'd update soon, and here it is. Hopefully Chapter 12 and 13 aren't far off either. I'm hoping to post them both before Halloween. As always, feel free to email me with comments or questions. 


	12. The Failed Plan

_This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

**CHAPTER 12**

**The Failed Plan**

* * *

Harry walked nervously down the crowded street. It felt somewhat like a French version of Diagon Alley, and yet the atmosphere was totally different. It was simultaneously more crowded and more relaxed than its London counterpart. Harry would have preferred it if the crowd had been more tense and businesslike. People with an agenda rarely took the time to examine those around them. These French wizards were just strolling about, as though they had simply found the world's most narrow, treeless park. 

A dark-haired witch's eyes connected with his and the corner of her mouth turned up into a smile. Was she just being friendly or did she recognize him? He gripped his wand in his pocket and continued walking, waiting for a shout or flash of light to herald the first hex.

The attack never came. When Harry turned to see if he was being followed, he couldn't even find the witch who had smiled at him. He continued walking, cursing himself for his own paranoia. Things had been so much simpler when he was running from the Brotherhood. They had been almost predictable in their uncanny ability to find him. It was so much harder to deal with a threat when you didn't even know if it was really there.

As he approached the tall circular building, the street got even more crowded. There seemed to be quite a bit of talking going on ahead of him. He continued walking, being ever more wary of anyone who might be paying a little too much attention to him. With a little luck, he would be inside soon. He wasn't far from the entrance now. Just as he expected, he spotted a large sign looming over the crowd: _Le Singe Ivre_.

Just as he was about to reach the entrance, the crowd came to an abrupt stop. He heard sharp voices arguing from the doorway followed by a sizzling sound as the crowd lurched backward a bit. He craned his neck over the pair of witches in front of him and saw a number of stern looking wizards in heavy cloaks step out of the main doorway.

They were security wizards. Something had happened. They had closed the doors. Something felt off. Harry turned around and tried to squeeze his way through the growing number of wizards piling up behind him. Before he had gotten more than twenty feet, he heard a voice barking commands over the murmur of the crowd. Harry ducked his head and tried to move faster.

"You there! Stop!" the voice shouted, using English now. There was more shouting and suddenly Harry felt a pair of strong hands clamp down on his shoulders. "I told you to stop," a wizard growled with a thick French accent. He spun Harry around to look at him. "Your name, it is Holmwood?"

Harry stared back at the man. 'Holmwood' had been one of the many names the Brotherhood had given him. "Er, yeah..." Harry replied shakily. "I'm Holmwood. Is there a problem?"

"_Oui, monsieur,_" the man grunted. "These people will not listen to orders. You are wanted inside. Please follow me."

Harry followed closely behind the wizard as he plowed a narrow path through the gathering mob of people. They ducked into a nearby building filled with other dark-robed security wizards. They were sitting about a large table eating what appeared to be a small feast. Harry's guide ignored them and led him up two flights of stairs to a narrow balcony overlooking the street. They followed it around the building until Harry realized the purpose of their journey.

A narrow wrought-iron bridge spanned the distance between the building and an upper entrance to _Le Singe Ivre_. The man gestured for Harry to cross, then turned and walked away. As he crossed the gap, he saw another wizard waiting for him in the shadows by the entrance. Harry paused, suddenly uncertain of what he should do.

The wizard stepped forward, casually placing two fingers against his temple and tracing them down below his eye in a subtle arc. The Brotherhood had dozens of signals it used to let members communicate in secret. Harry remembered only half of them, but this was one of the most common. It was a simple sign used by one member to signal his presence to another.

He quickly crossed the remaining section of the bridge and took shelter in the shadows on the other side. A small alcove was cut into the stone. In its center was a heavy wooden door which only muffled the noises of the pub on the other side of it.

"He's waiting inside," the wizard said in a clear voice. "Floor level. Near the bar."

Before Harry could even thank the wizard, he turned away and began crossing the iron bridge to the building Harry had just left. This was fairly standard behavior for the Brotherhood. He wondered how many of the security wizards in the building had worked for them. The man who had pulled him from the street obviously did not, but it was rare for any Brotherhood member to work alone. For the first time in nearly a year, he took comfort knowing that the Brotherhood was keeping an eye on him. He carefully wrenched the heavy door open and slipped inside.

To call _Le Singe Ivre_ a pub was about as appropriate as calling London a nice town. It bore a closer resemblance to a stadium than a pub, and that day it was living up to its appearance. Though he'd only visited a dozen or more times, he'd never seen it filled with so many wizards. Knowing where Josef was was only half of the battle. He was still on the second level of the huge structure and needed to weave his way through the crowd down to the floor.

After stumbling down the stairs into an even denser mass of wizards, Harry slowly made his way toward the large stone bar. It wasn't going to be easy to find Josef, but with a little luck, he wouldn't have to search for long. Josef had a way of finding him.

Harry searched along the bar, dodging wizards who were trying to buy a multitude of drinks. Just after ducking under a pair of huge glasses of beer, he stood up and felt a wand jabbing into his side.

"Who are you? What is your business here?" whispered a rough voice.

Harry kept his cool. He remembered how this worked. "I'm Holmwood," he replied. "I'm here for Karnstein." The wand was removed immediately.

"There is an Auror on the third level," the man whispered. "He is being removed presently." Then like all the others, the man simply walked away.

Harry continued along the bar a little further and found Josef sitting on a stool and laughing with a young and rather attractive black-haired witch. He nodded to Harry as he approached and turned to whisper to the wizard sitting next to him. The man stood up and walked off without a word.

"_Qui est ton ami?_" the barmaid spoke in rapid French. "_Il n'est vraiment pas trop mal. Je suis sure de trouver quelqu'un qui aimerait bien passer la nuit avec lui._" Harry failed to understand more than a few words.

Josef didn't seem to have any troubles, though. His reply was natural and fluid: "_Je pense qu'une bonne nuit de sommeil lui conviendrait plutôt mieux._" Harry even struggled to understand what he'd said, catching only something about rest.

The barmaid laughed. "_Moi, parlais surtout pas de sommeil. Ne partez pas. Je reviendrais._"

"What did she just say?" Harry asked as she walked away.

"She was just asking what we wanted to drink," Josef answered. "She'll be back."

"So what's this about?" Harry asked once she had walked away.

"We need to talk about introducing you to the rest of the world."

"And you couldn't find a place with any more people than this?" Harry growled. "You said I wouldn't need a disguise."

"It wouldn't have mattered," Josef said with a crooked smiled. "You're horrible at it. At least this way I was able to tell the local security wizards who to look for."

"And anyone from the Ministry will spot me immediately."

Josef shook his head. "Even _if_ someone from your Ministry made it into this place, and somehow got close enough to recognize you, there is no way they could capture you. In about five minutes this place is going to be nearly impossible to move around in."

"Why? What's happening?"

"The Quidditch World Cup!" shouted Josef as he pointed over his shoulder. A collection of flags were swirling around the stone fireplace in the center of the hall. Circling around them were a number of Quaffles and golden snitches. "They are going to be announcing the pairings and locations of the preliminary rounds of the tournament. For some reason, there was an abnormal amount of interest in the Cup this year. Every country that is capable of putting a half-decent team on the pitch is giving it a go."

That explained the reason for the large number of witches and wizards trying to pack themselves into the large pub. Harry marveled at the way Josef had always been able to find such things to hide his activities. Of course, he'd been doing it since he was a small child.

The dark-haired barmaid returned with a bright smile on her face. She tilted her head back, gathering her hair before stretching her neck to one side and letting her hair fall in front of her shoulder. She leaned over the bar and stared at Josef.

"_Me voilà,_" she purred, announcing her return. It was the first thing she'd said that he actually understood. "_Vous voulez quelque chose? Disons que, si vous me faites une demande intéressante, je… ferais en sorte que vous ne le regrettez pas. Et je serais... assez déçue si vous me faites servir encore de l'ale, c'est vraiment une boisson ridicule, quoi!_"

Harry began to ask what she'd just said, but Josef was already answering her: "_Je voudrais ton meilleur Bordeaux. Oui, un Bordeaux 1961. Mon ami prendra quelque chose de plus fort, par contre._" He turned suddenly to look at Harry. "And what would you like, Harry? They do have a number of good champagnes here, stuff the Muggles couldn't hope to find. Of course, there is also a nice shop not far from here that makes some excellent Firewhiskey. Good enough to embarrass the British."

"I think I'll stick to something a little weaker, thanks," Harry replied. "Water or butterbeer for me."

"Of course," Josef replied. He turned toward the smiling witch and spoke in low tones: "_Tu sais, il est très stressé. Il lui faut quelque chose de fort… Peut-être un Cognac. Oui, un Cognac lui tomberait à merveille. Et qu'il soit bon, le plus cher de la maison; il a plus d'or que tu ne croirais à le regarder._" The barmaid flashed a smile at Harry and spun around, walking off into a room behind the bar.

Harry scowled. "I didn't catch any mention of water or butterbeer in what you just told her."

"Maybe you should have spent more time learning to speak the language," Josef replied mockingly. "Relax, Harry. If I wanted you dead you would have disappeared a year ago."

"And no one would have ever found me or your body," Harry added with a smirk.

The barmaid returned a moment later, carrying a slightly dusty bottle of dark red wine. Another witch with pale blonde hair followed her carrying a smaller bottle and a large glass, both filled with a dark, reddish-brown liquid.

The blonde witch smiled at him and leaned across the bar, speaking slowly in a breathy voice: "_Et voilà! Si tu veux n'importe quoi d'autre, n'importe quoi, je suis à côté, n'hésite pas à m'appeler._"

Harry caught most of what she'd said this time. "Yes, there is something else," he growled under his breath as he tried to think of the correct words. "_Je pas vouloir ça. Je veut eau,_" he said haltingly as he pushed the glass back toward her.

"_De l'eau?_" she replied. "_Mais l'eau c'est pour laver les verres, pas pour les remplir, et surtout pas pour boire. Je t'assure, ça, c'est beaucoup mieux. Et si t'attends encore quelque temps, je peux te montrer quelque chose qui surpasse les deux. Est-ce que tu aimerais ça?_"

Harry nodded confidently, hoping that she hadn't just asked him if he wanted an embarrassing straw for his drink. "_Merci,_" he thanked her. "_Je désolé de confusion._"

Josef rolled his eyes and took a sip of his wine. "_Pardonnez l'inculture de mon pauvre ami,_" he said. It sounded like some sort of apology. Josef pointed at the scar on Harry's forehead. "_Il eut un accident, c'est cogné la tête. Extrêmement tragique. Il pourrait mourir demain et ne pas le savoir. C'est impossible à prédire._"

"What was that?" Harry whispered. Josef ignored him. Whatever he'd said, it hadn't seemed to upset the two women. The blonde witch shrugged and smiled at Harry.

"_C'est terrible! Mais j'aime bien sa cicatrice, par contre,_" she purred. "_S'il va mourir, il mérite un peu de bonheur dans ses dernières heures. Et puis, c'est pas trop grave qu'il n'arrive pas à parler, discuter n'était pas vraiment dans mes plans pour la soirée._" She gave him a wide smile, then walked off, giving him a wink over her shoulder.

"Er, _au-revoir_," he said as he stared at the glass of liquor in front of him. It didn't look like she was going to get any water for him.

"_Et toi? J'espère que tu n'as rien à faire ce soir?_" the dark-haired witch said to Josef. Harry recognized enough to realize that she was asking him if was busy that night. She leaned forward to wrap her small fingers around Josef's wrist. "_Ton ami aura peut-être besoin d'un traducteur, et je serais contente de te faire compagnie._"

Josef frowned. "_Excuse-moi,_" he apologized, "_Je ne peut pas. Il n'y a qu'une femme qui pourrait me rendre heureux. Et puis, je me sens déjà trop coupable, je ne puis en supporter plus._"

The witch smiled and let out a disappointed sigh. "_Je suis désolée, alors. Il faudra que je me contente de ton ami._" Then she waved playfully at Harry and walked away.

"What did you tell them?" Harry asked once she was too far away to hear.

"If you don't know, you'll probably prefer to keep it that way," Josef replied flatly. He took another drink of his wine and leaned forward on the stone surface of the bar, laughing quietly. "I must say, Harry, I've met Egyptian prostitutes who speak better French than you do."

"Well, I guess I haven't spent as much time around prostitutes as you obviously have," he shot back. "I think I'll just work with what I've got."

"What you've got makes you sound like an idiot," commented Josef. "How in the world did you ever manage to follow Henri for _two weeks_ without having a clue in the world what everyone was saying around you? I admit that I'm baffled to think of all things you might have accomplished if you would have remembered all the things we taught you."

"I understood more of the language then," Harry said in his defense. "And it didn't take much to understand what Henri was doing with those girls."

Josef's mood soured slightly and he looked up at Harry. "Yes, I suppose you do have a point."

Behind them, the murmurs of the crowd swelled into a roar of shouts and cheers. Harry turned to see the Quaffles and Snitches zipping about the room as the flock of flags left their tight spiral around the fireplace began weaving their way about the hall, dodging and diving between each other.

He watched in rapture for a minute before he saw one of the Snitches circling the fireplace, slowly climbing to the top of the hall. When it was nearly at the ceiling, there was a flash of light and golden sparks showered down on the crowd. A shout went up, followed by a sudden quiet. Two of the flags had turned from their random flight and were now shooting toward the top of the fireplace. The moment they reached the stone spire, they plastered themselves against the stone and a voice called out over the crowd. It spoke in French first, then repeated the message in accented English: _The ninth of October in Belgium: Albania versus Turkey!_

There was some amount of groaning, but for the most part, the crowd seemed excited to hear the news. Only moments after the cheers died down, another snitch began circling its way up the central fireplace.

"I think it's time to get down to business," Josef said. As Harry looked around he completely understood why Josef had told him to come there. It wasn't only the crowds that kept him safe. The shouting and distractions would ensure that no one overheard or even paid any attention to them.

"I hope you're going to tell me the rest of your brilliant plan to let the world know about me."

After another drink of wine, Josef turned to look at Harry with a calm expression.

"I want you to turn yourself in to the Ministry."

Harry felt his jaw drop. "You're bloody mental," spat Harry. "All this running and hiding and— Did you know that your little stunt in Calais put three wizards in the hospital? The French Ministry is considering imposing extra restrictions on wizards entering from Britain."

"Yes, and I'm sure Ginny will do an amazing job convincing them to lift those restrictions," replied Josef.

"What was the point?" Harry shouted. "Why didn't I just walk in days ago and save everyone a lot of trouble? Not that I'm in a hurry to visit Azkaban, the sooner I go in the faster I can get out, right?"

Josef laughed and reached for his wine again. He assured Harry that no one would be going to Azkaban, though Harry wasn't able to share the same amount of confidence in that.

"What makes you so certain this is going to work?" he asked as the pub erupted with another round of cheers. "Reynard has spies all throughout the Ministry. If any of them sees me, I'll never make it out without a fight. I'll be lucky if I can make it past the front gate, much less all the way to the Aurors Office."

"I never said anything about the Auror Office," replied Josef. "I want you to turn yourself in to the Minster directly."

Harry glared at him. "Oh, just that? I suppose you've set up an appointment," he said sarcastically. "If anyone tries to kill me, I'll just tell them that I'm there to see the Minister."

"No one will stop you. So long as you keep your head, they can't attack you where other wizards might be watching. As far as the rest of Britain knows, you are a hero. The Ministry declared that as soon as it became obvious that Voldemort was gone. I don't expect you'll have any trouble getting past the gate, and the last place Reynard will expect you to go is to the Minister's office. You hate him and he's never been fond of you because of it."

"How is going to Scrimgeour any better than going to Reynard?" Harry asked with real curiosity.

"You always underestimate your affect on others," Josef told him. "It's always confused me. People love you, Harry, and that's exactly the sort of person Scrimgeour wants around him."

"I'm not going to be his best mate," Harry snapped.

"You don't have to be, you just have to not be his enemy. You don't even have to do it for very long," Josef said in a calming voice. "In case you haven't noticed, Rufus Scrimgeour hasn't been doing a very good job lately. There have been a number of attacks, and all sorts of strange things going on. There are already rumors that he's thinking about resigning. If he can't do something to make people trust him, that's exactly what will happen."

"So I'm supposed to let him catch me?" Harry asked incredulously.

"No, he's going to let you go," Josef replied. "You both need each other. He'll talk to you and let you go, and everyone will love him for it. He'll get to blame Reynard and you'll get to come back to that wizarding society you claim you miss so much."

Harry stared at the glass of alcohol in front of him and thought about what Josef had said. He couldn't find any part of it that didn't make sense. It was Reynard that he had to worry about. If Scrimgeour was already wary of him, Harry could use that to get what he wanted. Without really thinking, he picked up the glass and took a drink. The sweet liquid burned as it traveled down to his stomach. The crowd behind him broke out in another round of cheers as another pairing was posted.

Something still worried him. Everything made sense. It was all planned out. It was just as logical and thorough as the rest of Josef's plan. The only difference with this one was that there was very little risk. The plan was simple and easy.

Too easy.

"What aren't you telling me?" Harry said in an accusatory tone. Josef pretended to not hear him. "It's too clean," he continued. "There are always problems. How are you fixing them?"

"I'm fixing them," Josef answered.

"_How_ are you fixing them?" Harry persisted. "You always leave out the most dangerous part until it's too late for me to refuse. I'm not going to let you do it this time."

"Relax, Harry," he groaned. "You have nothing to worry about. In this case, it's just as simple as it sounds. As long as you can keep yourself from attacking anyone, we'll all be fine."

Something about how he had said that stuck in Harry's mind. He said they'd _all_ be fine. Who else was involved? He went over everything in his mind again. "Hold on," he said as he suddenly realized what he'd been missing. "You expect me to believe that Reynard is just going to stand by and do nothing while I march up to the Minister's office? He'll know what that will mean for him. He'll try to stop me."

"Yes, he will," Josef admitted.

"And what am I supposed to do about that?"

"Nothing at all. He's going to fail. He knows you're going to be at the Ministry tomorrow, but he—"

"How could he possibly know that?"

"He knows it because I told him," Josef explained. Before Harry could protest, he continued talking: "It's necessary. You and Scrimgeour need each other and Reynard is standing between you. I can fix that, but I need his full attention."

"So you're going to create some sort of diversion? I don't think that's going to work as well as you expect. He doesn't trust you. He's never trusted anyone in the Brotherhood. You'd have to use someone else. Someone who's close to—"

Harry froze. Suddenly, he understood what Josef's plan was. "No," he said firmly. "Not her. Find someone else."

"There is no one else," Josef said. His voice was flat and emotionless, as though he had rehearsed this answer many times. "She's the only one he can't ignore."

"She hasn't been trained like we have!" argued Harry. "She can't fight all of them, if he captures her—"

"He'll do nothing," Josef interrupted. "He won't hurt her. He can't risk the consequences. He knows we would kill him. And so long as you do what you're told, it won't matter what he would do to her. He'll have to do whatever Scrimgeour tells him."

"It's too risky."

"It's too late," Josef countered. "Ginny will be taking the lift to the Department of Mysteries five minutes before nine o' clock. You'll want to arrive at exactly nine o' clock. The best way to keep her safe will be to get to Scrimgeour as quickly as you can."

Harry lifted his glass again. Josef was right. He'd done it again. There was no way for Harry to refuse. The plan could work. They always sounded like they could. He just hoped that this was one of the ones which actually _did_ work.

* * *

Harry Apparated in the Ministry Atrium and immediately felt completely exposed. He had no disguise, no shadows to hide in, and no one escorting him. He had a set of Shield Robes, but it felt more like he was wearing nothing at all. This was further enhanced by the gaping looks he got from the witches and wizards around him. 

He remembered what he and Josef had discussed in Paris. He needed to keep moving. Ginny was nearby, but Josef refused to tell him exactly where she would be. Wherever that was, he was certain that it was dangerous. He had no time to waste.

He forced himself to ignore the stares of the wizards around him and began walking directly toward the security gate. As he walked, he heard the murmurs of the people around him. He wasn't sure exactly what he expected, but this wasn't really it. It seemed almost as if they weren't certain what they were seeing.

The guard at the desk was a little more composed. He hadn't even looked up from the large, dusty book he had buried his nose in. Harry came to a stop in front of his desk and was forced to clear his throat to catch the attention of the distracted wizard.

"Ah, who're— what's this?" the man squeaked. "Oh. A visitor. Of course, how exciting." He squinted at Harry from behind thick glasses which magnified his eyes to a startling size. The book he had been reading disappeared in a puff of smoke and he immediately stood up and grabbed the thin rod they used to check wizards for anything dangerous. As he passed the wand over Harry's shoulders, he paused for a second to blink at Harry with his enormous eyes.

"You look familiar..." he commented. He squinted at Harry again, but after a few seconds, he shrugged and walked back behind his desk, leaving Harry as surprised and confused as everyone else around him. "Wand," the man said in a bored voice.

Harry reached into his pocket, then slowly and calmly removed his wand. He gave it to the wizard and hoped that he would get it back. The wizard performed the same sequence of actions that Harry had seen many other times. He took the wand and put it on the odd scale mechanism and waited for the slip of parchment to be written out.

"Eleven inches. Phoenix-feather core. Been in use for... nine years." He stared down at the slip and tipped his head to one side. "Now that sounds familiar. I would have sworn I've heard that recently. Were you here last week?"

"No," Harry replied stiffly. He was staring at his wand and wondering what would happen if he would take it back.

"Hmm. I know I've heard that before," mumbled the wizard. He was shuffling through scraps of parchment while cursing himself under his breath. "What did you say your name was?" he asked as he opened a drawer and flipped through more parchment.

"I'm er— My name is Potter. Harry Potter." It sounded odd to hear himself announce his own name. It had been so long since he'd used it in public.

"Potter, eh?" the man repeated with a frown. "Like that famous dead boy, eh? Yes, I'm sure you're not the last one I'll see. Everyone wants to be named Harry Potter, now. That wand, though. Now that's unique. Just, er... just wait a moment while I try to find out why I know it."

"I'm in a bit of a hurry," Harry said. "I've got a meeting with the Minister."

"Oh, nothing to worry about," the old man said as he flopped a stack of parchment on the desk and began sorting through it. "Old Scrimgeour doesn't take meetings before half past nine. Likes his tea, he does."

"Yes, well if it's all the same I'd prefer to arrive early. May I have my wand back?"

"Come on, now. Show a little patience, my boy." The man stopped flipping through parchment and wiggled a bony finger at Harry. "The young, these days. Always so eager to run about. They have to go everywhere and get there as quick as possible. Just wait a moment. I think I've found it." He reached for Harry's wand before Harry could and used his other hand to search down a page of sloppily written text.

"We've had a number of these requests lately," the man said. "Someone decides they're interested in a particular wand type and figures the best way to find one is to have me waste my time looking for it. As if I've nothing better to do." He turned the parchment over and began searching again from the top. "Usually it's just some bored wizard with too much gold in his pockets. I can't imagine why someone would want to collect wands. I suppose everyone needs a hobby, and someone else's hobby just might be a pile of gold for you. Phoenix feather wands aren't terribly common. They usually— Ah! Here it is!"

The man held the parchment closer to his face as he studied it. As Harry watched, he looked from the parchment to the wand and back. "Yes, this looks to be the right type," he said. Harry felt his heart beating faster, but he didn't say anything. If he could just get his wand, he could slip away without any trouble.

"Hmm. It doesn't really say who's looking for it," the man grumbled. "Just says I'm supposed to send a memo to Victor Cort." The man put down the parchment and shrugged at Harry. "Never heard of him, either. He must work here, though."

The man swept aside the piles of parchment and pulled a clean roll from another drawer. He set Harry's wand down at the top of the roll and began scribbling a message. As he wrote, Harry felt more and more eager to go. He didn't know who Victor Cort was, but he was certain that the message would end up going to Reynard. He couldn't wait there for the memo to be delivered. He needed to go. He needed to leave.

"Could I have my wand back?" he asked in a controlled voice.

"I already told you the Minister won't see you yet," the old wizard replied as he continued writing. "You might as well wait and see if you can't make some gold."

"I've already got plenty of gold."

"Do you? Well you'll have to wait until I report the wand anyway." He looked up to glare at Harry. "This is my job. I follow orders. You might be rich, but I've got to work to feed my family."

Harry looked over at the gate, then back at his wand. He could take it and be through the gate before the old man could stop him. Perhaps he wouldn't even care, and if he did, by the time he could alert the Aurors, Harry would be at the Minister's office.

A large group of wizards was just passing by. Once they were through, he would have a clear path to the gate. The security wizard wasn't watching him. Harry's wand was simply lying on the desk. When the clump of wizards passed by, Harry took his opportunity.

His training with the Brotherhood took over and he felt himself moving quickly and smoothly. He slammed his left hand against the side of the desk, making it tremble and distract the old wizard. Simultaneously, his right shot forward to snatch the wand from the desk. Before his fingers had even closed around it, he was beginning to stride away.

Something went wrong. As he took a second step, he felt his right arm jerk backward suddenly. His body was twisted around to let him see that the old wizard had latched onto his wrist and was scowling at him.

"I told you to _be patient_," the man growled. "I might not be an Auror anymore, but I'm not old enough to be fooled by that pathetic stunt."

"_You have to let me go!_" Harry commanded. "People are in danger."

"Yes, and you're one of them, boy." With surprising strength, he tugged at Harry's arm, knocking him off balance and pulling him into the desk. A wand appeared out of nowhere, and before Harry could do anything, his hand was tied to a shiny brass loop fastened to the top of the desk.

"So, what is it they want you for?" the man asked lightly as he continued his memo. "Vandalism? Theft? Illegal Use of Magic?"

"I'm here to see the Minister," Harry said again. "I need to go. You don't understand what is going on."

"I'm sure I don't. Why don't we just wait here and see what Victor Cort has to say, shall we?" The man finished the memo and raised his wand over it. Without understanding exactly why he did it, Harry grabbed it with his free hand.

"Don't send that," he hissed. "I'm warning you—"

"You're warning me?" the man laughed. "And what, er... what would you be warning—" The wizard blinked his eyes and gave a little sniffle. "You're... in enough trouble—"

His eyes seemed to lose focus and he reached up to remove his glasses. As he did that, Harry noticed a trickle of blood flowing down from his nose. The wizard wiped at it with his hand and stared down at the droplets of blood smeared across his wrist. "What the—" he started to say, but his voice was cut short by a grunt of pain. His arm went limp and his wand dropped to the floor.

Harry quickly grabbed his wand with his free hand so he could untie the other one. By the time he had unraveled the cords, the poor man was doubled over in his chair with one hand pressed against his eyes and the other clutching the place Harry had grabbed him.

"Make it stop," he pleaded. "I— I won't send it. I swear. I— Please. No more..."

"What's happening?" a nearby wizard shouted. "What did you do to him?"

"I didn't do anything!"

"Well, how did he— Hold on. Are you Harry Potter? I thought you were—"

"I'm not," replied Harry. "Listen. He needs help. Go to St. Mungo's. I'll try to find someone in the Ministry."

The wizard nodded and quickly Disapparated. Harry ran toward the gate, hoping to avoid as many other people as he could. The spectacle outside the gate was drawing more and more of a crowd. He didn't know what had happened, but he didn't have time to figure it out. He slipped into an empty lift and pressed the button for Level One. Though he felt guilty thinking it, he hoped that the guard would provide enough of a distraction to keep anyone from trying to follow him.

* * *

Ginny's legs felt unsteady as she stepped off the lift. She forced herself to walk forward. She knew her way, though that was little comfort to her. She couldn't remember any time when she'd visited the Department of Mysteries when she'd actually been happy to be there. If she understood Josef's plan, this time would be no better. 

She contemplated which path to follow. The lone door directly ahead of her led into the heart of the Department and would provide her the most places to hide. Unfortunately, she wasn't there to hide —not yet, at least. She needed to be seen. Hiding was a last resort in case Josef had made some tragic miscalculation. At the moment, she needed to find someone who worked there and some way to escape them. The large rotating room wouldn't help her with that. She needed the offices.

Ginny turned away and started walking back the same path they'd used to escape Reynard and the Brotherhood earlier that summer. It was not a memory she enjoyed, but with any luck it would help her accomplish her goal. She only wished she knew how long she needed to run about. Josef had refused to tell her where Harry was, but it was obvious that he was going to be inside the Ministry. How long was it going to take him to get wherever he was going? How much of a distraction did she need to provide? Who would come to save her if she actually succeeded?

She pushed the thought from her mind. There was nothing she could do about that. Josef told her that Harry's life depended on her ability to convince Reynard that she was some sort of threat. She wasn't certain if she could do that, but she was confident she could at least get his attention.

She found a locked door which her memory told her should eventually lead back to Hermione's old office. If she could make it that far, she should be able to find her way enough to lead any wizards on a decent chase. She quietly unlocked the door and slipped through the narrow opening. There was no turning back now, though she never really had any choice.

She crept down the narrow corridor, listening for voices and watching the shadows dance in the light of the torches. As she passed each alcove, she checked for light coming from any of the doors. When she reached the end of the first corridor, she found that she was actually a bit surprised. There was no sign of anyone. She continued searching, but everywhere she looked, she found only empty corners and deserted offices.

She could feel the first signs of panic in her chest. Where was everyone? She'd heard Hermione say that many of the Department of Mysteries' employees came in quite early. If they were here, why couldn't she find any of them? She came to Hermione's old office and, for a moment, considered entering it. The desire passed quickly when she remembered how they'd nearly been trapped inside it the last time.

A chilling thought hit her: Maybe she couldn't find anyone because they'd all left. Of course, they wouldn't have left unless there was some reason, and the only two reasons she could think of at that time were herself and Harry. It must have been past nine o' clock by then. Harry would be arriving in the Atrium at any moment. If they knew he was there, then she was failing. She needed to draw attention away from Harry.

She ran forward, moving quickly. She passed junctions with other corridors and a few pairs of staircases. Finally, she heard what she'd been expecting: the sound of heavy boots and a slamming door. She slowed to a walk, then froze suddenly. She had just passed another corridor and she leaped back to look around the corner. A pair of dark robed figures was standing some distance away. They were close enough that she could tell one was a witch and the other a wizard, but they were too far away for her to recognize them. They made no attempt to hide or move at all. Instead, they simply stared back at her.

Ginny turned away from them and continued down the corridor at a brisk pace. They had seen her, but done nothing. Had she guessed right? Was the slamming door a sign that they were hiding from her? That would mean they were quite aware of her. It didn't explain why no one had approached her or tried to stop her. Were they waiting for her to do something or say something? As she walked, she started to recognize the area again, and she realized what was happening.

They had set a trap, and she had walked into it.

Ginny didn't know what to do. She could almost feel the tense watchfulness around her. What were they waiting for? They must know that she had figured it out by now. Did they know about Harry yet? How many of them were watching her? She forced herself to stop and try to calm down. She was gasping for breath and her heart was racing. There was nothing for her to do. Either she was succeeding and needed to keep going, or she'd failed and nothing mattered anyway.

Gathering her courage, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her wand. She walked forward slowly to the end of the corridor and looked down the only adjoining pathway. At the end, she saw a slightly wider area lit by a number of torches. Cut into the wall was a shallow recess sheltering a door of dark wood. She'd seen it before. It was the door to Reynard's office.

She began walking faster. It was time to spring the trap. If Harry was nearby, she needed to draw as much attention to herself as possible. The sight of Reynard's office reminded her of one sure way of getting a reaction. As she neared the doorway, she raised her wand slowly, aiming it at the polished wooden surface. When she was only feet away from it, she took a deep breath and summoned all her concentration.

"_Reducto!_" she shouted. The handle to the door shattered with a sharp, metallic ringing. She grabbed at the splintered hole where the lock had been and wrenched the door open. With one swift movement, her wand was raised again and pointed directly at a tall chair in the center of the office.

It was empty.

The whole office was empty. There was a fresh fire and parchment stretched out across the desk. There was even a large cup of some steaming liquid next to the chair her wand was pointed it. But Reynard wasn't there. An intense dread crept up her spine. She didn't need to turn around to see what was behind her, but she knew she had to anyway.

"Go on, Miss Weasley," chided a thin voice.

She glared back into the pale eyes of Auguste Reynard. "I was looking for you," she said.

"Yes, I know," he replied coldly. His white hair reflected the flames of the nearby torches, making him look even more demonic. Behind him stood six dark robed wizards, each of them aiming their wand directly at her.

"Put away your wand, Ginny," he ordered. "The situation is far too serious for us to have to deal with your foolish attempts to escape. Surely you know me well enough to know that you'll never make it past me and my guards." Ginny hesitated for a moment, holing her wand firmly but unwilling to actually aim it at any of the wizards arrayed before her. Slowly, Reynard reached forward and gently slid it from her hand.

"Stay here," he commanded the wizards behind him. "Miss Weasley and I will need some privacy. See we're not interrupted." They quickly turned and formed a staggered line behind him, facing away from the door.

With a quick motion, one of Reynard's gloved hands shot forward. An instant later, pain sliced through the back of her head as he grabbed her hair and twisted her around before shoving her into the room. The door slammed shut behind her and she felt herself tossed into the chair she had seen in the center of the room. Tight cords bound her wrists and ankles to the chair.

"I'm a Ministry employee!" shouted Ginny. "You can't do this to me!" She didn't honestly believe it, but she had to do something. All she could hope for now was that someone would come to save her before she disappeared forever.

"You were caught trespassing in restricted areas of the Department of Mysteries," snarled Reynard. "What happens here is my business, and I will do what is necessary to protect my department."

"You can't lock me up or make me disappear or—" She felt her throat tighten. "—or kill me. People will look for me. They'll ask, and they know where I went."

"Of course they do," Reynard purred as he pulled her face close to his. "However, these things take time and for the moment, you are a criminal. Your friends in Romania can't protect you."

"You'd be surprised," she replied defiantly.

Reynard scowled and spoke to her in a slow, forceful tone: "Tell me where Harry is, and we can forget this happened."

Ginny blinked at him. "Harry who?"

Ginny felt his hand wrap around her throat and push her against the back of her chair. "Don't toy with me _girl_," he hissed. "This is so much bigger than you could possibly imagine. Your life is insignificant in comparison. Don't think for an instant that I will let you get in my way. Tell me where Harry is, or things will start to get... uncomfortable."

"You can't hurt me," Ginny said in a raspy voice, "and I won't tell you."

"You will. You came to the wrong place, Miss Weasley. In here, I make the laws. Ferdinand can't help you, and the Brotherhood won't make it past the fountain. Your only way out is through me or the Minister of Magic himself, and the Minister is far—"

Reynard's eyes widened and his face became even paler. With a roar of anger, he stood up and swept his wand out of his pocket. For a moment, Ginny thought he was actually going to curse her. Instead, he aimed his wand at the door and it was ripped from its hinges. A number of wizards were standing on the other side of the doorway.

"The Minister's office!" Reynard roared. "He's going to the Minister's office! _Go!_ _Now!_"

The wizards turned and ran away before Reynard had even finished shouting the orders at them. As he strode away, he turned to look back at her. "You think you're clever, now? This isn't the end. When it comes, we'll see how clever you think you are."

* * *

Seven levels above her, Harry had exited his lift and was making his way toward the Minister's office. The whole level was relatively quiet, suggesting that the old guard had been correct and that Scrimgeour didn't really conduct much business before he had a chance to enjoy his morning tea. 

The few wizards he did see were either too surprised or frightened to try and slow him down. Most of them simply stood and stared at him as he walked by, obviously trying to decide whether they were seeing a ghost or simply hallucinating. He finally reached the main doors which opened on the parlor outside Scrimgeour's office. A pair of wizards was standing on either side of the open doors.

"Hold on, you're—" one of them started, then quickly stopped himself. "State your name and business," he demanded in a much more formal tone.

Harry took a moment to inspect them. The one who had spoken to him looked to be in his fifties, with lightly greying hair and an angular jaw. His eyes were opened wide, giving him an expression of awe and reverence. The other was much younger and hadn't blinked since Harry had appeared around the corner. He looked distinctly uncomfortable, as though he wanted to run away as quickly as he could.

"My name is Harry Potter and I am here to speak with the Minister of Magic."

The corners of the older one's mouth twitched into a faint smile. Harry wasn't sure if he was going to usher him through the door or hug him.

"I— It's good to see you Mr. Potter," the guard said excitedly. "However, I'm afraid the Minister is busy at the moment. If you would wait, I'm sure he'd see you as soon as—"

"He'll see me _now_," Harry interrupted him.

"He's busy, Mr. Potter," the guard said, though it seemed to pain him to do so.

"If I start walking are you going to stop me?"

The younger guard's eyes narrowed and he drew his wand. "No!" barked the older one. "We won't. Just be careful. The Minister can be a little irritable before he gets his tea."

Harry didn't really care much at all about how irritable or groggy Scrimgeour might be. He kept wondering what part Ginny was playing in this plan and what sort of danger she might be in. Whatever it was, it had been designed to keep Reynard away from him and it didn't seem outrageous to believe that wherever she was, Reynard wasn't far away.

That was probably Josef's plan from the very start. He'd always said that Harry was too cautious when he had the advantage and too reckless when he didn't. Putting Ginny in danger —however mild it might be— was one sure way to get him to act more aggressively. At the very worst, Harry would reach the Minister and Reynard would capture Ginny. It was just that sort of balance that Josef had been taught for many years and that Grigore would have been proud of him for producing.

As he strode across the beautifully decorated hall, he heard murmurs from the wizards around him. A young witch in an expensive set of robes stood up from behind a wide desk just outside the door. "The Minister is—" she began to announce. "Oh my... Are you—?"

"Yes," Harry answered flatly. "I'm going to talk to Scrimgeour."

Harry pulled the door open and stepped into the room without even knocking. The office was everything he expected it to be: bright and gaudy, with awards and trophies spaced evenly along the walls between portraits of some of the greatest Ministers in history. Sitting behind an enormous desk, he found Rufus Scrimgeour spooning sugar into a large darkly-colored teacup.

He didn't even look up at Harry. "It is just past the hour!" his voice rumbled. "Leave me to my tea! If I have to tell you one more time, you'll wish you were—"

"Dead?" Harry finished for him. "From what I've heard, I already am."

Scrimgeour froze and looked up into Harry's eyes. Without warning, his teacup pitched over and dropped from his hand onto his lap. The Minister let out a loud yelp and immediately dove for his wand. Instinctively, Harry reached for his own.

"_Evanesco!_" the Minister cried aiming the wand down toward his legs.

Seconds later, a pair of wizards and the young witch from the previous room burst through the doorway. "You!" one of them shouted at Harry. "Put down your wand and step out of the office!"

"Bloody hell, are you blind?" shouted Scrimgeour. "That's—" His voice was cut short as if he'd been struck with a Silencing Spell. He slowly put down his wand and walked out around his desk. "Bartlett, I need you to go and see that no one enters or leaves this level. _Now._" One of the wizards lowered his wand but hesitated a moment.

"Go," urged the Minister. "Don't worry. Dodkin is still here to protect me." The wizard turned and ran from the room. "Ellen, close the main doors behind them. Keep everyone inside and lock them with as many charms as your pretty little head can remember." The dark-haired witch looked confused, but turned and left as well. When she had left, Scrimgeour began walking toward Harry. "Dodkin, lock the door." The one remaining wizard walked to the door and shut it firmly and tapped it with his wand.

"You _are_ Harry Potter," the Minister said as he stepped closer. Harry nodded and slowly put away his wand. He hadn't come all that way to attack the one person who could help him. Scrimgeour put his wand away as well and stared at Harry. "Why are you here? What is it that you want?"

Harry fought back a scowl. "I'm here because you gave Auguste Reynard permission to blame me for the attacks at Hogwarts."

"And you've had no part of them?" asked Scrimgeour.

"No."

"So you're here to clear your name and nothing else?" said the Minister, sounding rather suspicious.

"I'm done running and hiding," Harry announced. "There's no reason any more."

"That's touching, but it's not true. If all you wanted was to rejoin the wizarding world, all you'd have to do is step out into Diagon Alley. There's nothing anyone in the Ministry could do to stop you. We'd have riots if I tried to stop you." Scrimgeour smirked and shook his head. "There's something more. Why are you _here_? Why did you come to me?"

"You need me," Harry declared, hoping that might work better. "Reynard is slowly taking control of the Ministry. I'm here to help you stop him."

Scrimgeour laughed. "No, I don't think you are." He turned his back on Harry and began pacing about casually. "You've never liked me. You may not like Reynard, but there are a dozen wizards who you could have gone to. You came to me because you need _my_ help."

Harry frowned and let out a deep breath. "We need each other. If you help me, I'll help you."

The smile remained on the Minister's face. "Perhaps we do," he said, "but my problems with Reynard have been around for months. I'm sure another few weeks won't really matter. But you... I think you've got something more pressing. Shall we skip directly to the point? What is it that you need?"

"Ginny Weasley is somewhere inside the Ministry," Harry answered. "Wherever she is, I think she's in danger."

"Danger?" replied Scrimgeour, obviously curious. "How is that? You came here to stop some sort of attack?"

Harry quickly explained the rough details of the plan Josef had laid out, though he allowed himself to take credit for it. As he explained that Ginny's job had been to provide a distraction, he saw Scrimgeour's face light up.

"And she agreed to do that so that you would be able to reach my office and ask my help to pull her from the trap she was putting herself into. A very risky plan," he said as he rubbed his chin. "Love," he grunted. "It makes people do strange things. Some say it is the most powerful emotion. Would you agree?" Harry didn't respond. Something in the old wizard's voice made his skin crawl.

The Minister slowly walked back to his desk, picked up a quill and began writing something on a clean roll of parchment. "She loves you, and you love her. She has risked her life to give you a chance to live your life and let you save hers. That will happen quite a bit faster if we can agree right now that you would agree to pretty much whatever demands I make in exchange for a guarantee of her safety." He looked up from the parchment. "Can we agree to that?"

Harry ran his hand through his hair. The Minister was right, of course. He couldn't bargain with Ginny's safety. He had depended on her and now she was depending on him. He needed to do whatever it took. "I won't do anything illegal for you," Harry told him.

"Of course not," Scrimgeour replied. "You may not like me, Harry, but I am not like Reynard. What I have done, I have done for the greater good of all wizards. I would never ask you to do anything contrary to that."

"I won't be your puppet," Harry continued. "You're doing one favor for me, and I'll do one favor for you."

"It is more than a simple favor you're asking for," he countered as he finished writing and laid out a number of other blank rolls next to the one he'd just written on. "I will ask more than a simple favor in return."

"What do you want?"

"Come now, Harry," he said in a low voice. "I thought we had already gone over this." He took his wand out and tapped each of the empty scrolls, making rough copies of the original appear on all of them. "Ginny's safety is at stake. Let's not quibble over details. You will agree. We both know this."

"Fine," Harry agreed. "I'll do it, now what can you do?"

The Minister jabbed his wand at one of the scrolls. There was a flash of light and a small puff of smoke. From the distance he was at, Harry could just barely make out a darkened circle singed into the parchment with some sort of picture within it. Scrimgeour repeated this for each of the copies and then called the Auror over to him.

"Dodkin!" he called out as he rolled up the parchment. "Take these. Take as many Aurors and guards as you can gather quickly and search for Ginny Weasley. If you find Reynard, she is probably nearby. Split up into groups of no less than five and give one of those to each group of wizards. They give you authority over every other wizard in Britain. I want her found and brought to my office as quickly as possible."

The Auror collected the scrolls and dashed out the door. Harry collapsed into a chair, wondering what he'd just agreed to do. He comforted himself with the knowledge that there wasn't much he could have done. The Minister called in another one of the guards.

"Call for the Obliviators," he said in a low voice. Harry shot out of his chair, and Scrimgeour was quick to calm him. "Not for you!" he insisted. "We can't have everyone talking about seeing Harry Potter popping into the Ministry."

"Why not?" Harry asked, afraid of the answer.

"They'll ruin the surprise, of course!" Scrimgeour replied excitedly.

"What surprise would that be?"

Scrimgeour looked at him as though he had missed something completely obvious. "Why, your grand return, of course. You can't simply walk into the Ministry one day. You're Harry Potter. It will need to be... impressive."

* * *

Harry sat in the parlor at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place and explained everything that had happened over the past week. Ron, Hermione and Ginny listened passively as he explained in boring detail how he'd led the Aurors Reynard had sent after him on a number of pointless and fruitless chases. It had been easy compared to dealing with the Brotherhood, especially considering that it was likely the Brotherhood was lightly interfering with the Ministry's efforts to track him down. 

They all seemed to get a little more interested as Harry explained the reason behind the attack Neville had told Ginny about. Josef had planned it, of course. He wanted to use it to make the British Ministry operate a little more quietly.

Ron got an envious look on his face as Harry told them about being smuggled into _La Singe Ivre_. "Do you have any idea how hard it was to get into that place that day?" Ron exclaimed. "There were over a thousand wizards in the street trying to get in and you got pulled down to the _bar_ during the announcements? I would have killed for that chance."

_It's very possible the Brotherhood did just that,_ he commented to himself. By then, he had already explained Josef's plan to them a couple times, so he skipped it and move on to the odd behavior of the wizards when he arrived at the Ministry. "That's why he sent out the Obliviators," Harry said. "I think he wanted to try and keep my return secret until he could make the most of it."

Harry attempted to remember everything that had been said in the Minister's office. Even after a number of hours, he had trouble remembering everything that had been said. None of it really mattered. Once Harry was inside the office, his fate was almost entirely sealed. Scrimgeour had been right about him. He'd come to the Minister because he was the only one in the Ministry who had a chance to control Reynard and keep Ginny safe.

Ginny finally spoke up at this point, telling everyone what felt like a much abbreviated tale of what had happened to her that morning. She insisted that Reynard had not actually hurt her and barely had any time to toss a handful of threats at her. Within minutes of being left alone in his office, she had been rescued by a small team of guards led by a pair of Aurors.

"So what did you have to give him, Harry?" she asked. "Why are you still hiding?"

Harry tried to find a good way of explaining it. In the simplest terms, he had agreed —somewhat less than willingly— to allow Scrimgeour to unveil him in front of the rest of the wizarding world. It was precisely what Harry had been trying to avoid. Ron and Hermione were quick to point out that no matter what Harry had done, some sort of public spectacle would have occurred, and even if he had tried to avoid it, it would have found him sooner or later.

"Well I wish it was happening sooner," Harry replied. "I'd rather not have to spend another month waiting for him to find the perfect time to announce me as his new best mate." Harry barely had any time to speak with Scrimgeour before the Obliviators arrived. The Minister had told him very little about his plans, only that he would start making arrangements immediately.

He'd ordered Harry to remain hidden until some time in the future. He'd also reminded Harry that Ginny had indeed broken several laws, including lying to the Minister of Magic. This was meant to be enough to convince Harry not to forget the bargain he'd made.

The Obliviators arrived shortly after that and began getting to work on nearly all of the wizards who'd seen Harry, including Dodkin, the guard who had called them. Scrimgeour pulled a pair of them aside and ordered them to escort Harry through the Floo to a nearly abandoned pub outside of Aberdeen. Harry had Apparated away, leaving the handful of patrons with a pair of Obliviators.

"The more I think of it, the more I wish I could have found some other way," Harry said heavily. "This is going to be bad. I can feel it already."

"Oh, come on. How bad can it be?" Ron asked.

"He's going to make it look like I support him," Harry explained. "It won't even matter if I look miserable. Everyone will see the two of us together and assume that he must be a pretty good bloke."

"Well, he's a lot better than most," declared Ron, "and he must be better than Reynard."

Harry sighed and looked over at Ron. "I hope so," he said quietly.

* * *

The next morning, Harry stumbled down the stairs to find Hermione and Ginny sitting at the kitchen table silently eating toast and reading the morning's issue of the _Daily Prophet_. Harry poured himself some juice and shuffled over to the table to sit down next to Ginny. She gave him a strange look as he reached for a slice of toast. 

"Where's Ron?" he asked lazily.

"He didn't really say," Hermione replied distantly. "I think he might be looking for some sort of job to do until the next Quidditch season starts up. He's been getting really restless lately."

"Did he say what he's looking for?" he asked as he took a bite of the bread. "I'm sure his brothers would find something for him to do."

"He spends enough time around them as it is," replied Hermione. Her voice was tense and the trace of humor in it sounded forced.

"What is it?" Harry asked, sensing something wasn't right. Hermione didn't answer. She put down the _Prophet_ and glanced over at Ginny. Taking this as a cue, Harry looked over at her as well. Ginny looked nervous and worried. Harry reached out to put his hand over hers. "What? Bad news?"

"What happened to the guard, Harry?" she asked worriedly.

"The guard... I— I don't know what happened to him," he admitted. "He was nearly blind and didn't even believe me when I said who I was. He was going to send me on my way, but stopped to send some sort of memo. I tried to stop him, but before I could he just sort of... stopped on his own. I didn't waste time thinking about it. I just left."

"Why didn't you tell us about that last night?"

Harry blinked. He had honestly forgotten it. "Well, I didn't do it on purpose," he answered. "I guess I didn't think it was all that important. We got into a bit of a fight and the next thing I know, he's got a bloody nose and he just sort of fainted." Harry shrugged and stared at Hermione. "Maybe he was sick and the activity was too much."

Hermione frowned and slid the copy of the _Daily Prophet_ over to him. The front page had absolutely no mention of the story. Neither did the second or third. Hermione had to direct her to the center of page eleven to get the Ministry's version of what had happened.

_FALSE ALARM TRIGGERS RUMORS AND HALLUCINATIONS_

_Sources inside the Ministry of Magic confirmed the confusion yesterday morning was nothing more that a false alarm caused by the mishandling of magical items. After a misunderstanding with an unidentified visitor, Gladius Backarrin, a former Auror who now works the security desk, reports that he must have grabbed a charmed quill instead of his standard one. He suffered only a minor nosebleed and some mild dizziness._

_Nonetheless, the panic caused by Backarrin's collapse seemed to have caused a number of bizarre reports throughout the Ministry. A number of wizards claimed to have identified the wizard who had been speaking to Backarrin, but later investigation has proved these reports to be false. As reports of the incident traveled through the Ministry, a number of departments mistakenly assumed another attack was underway. In response to these concerns, the Minister's office was immediately sealed._

_Mr. Backarrin is resting easily in a bed in St. Mungo's Hospital. Healers expect him to leave early this morning. No other injuries were reported in connection to this incident._

"That's not surprising," Harry said. "Scrimgeour sent out Obliviators. I'm surprised he even remembers his own name. They probably went after him first."

"That's not what the _Quibbler_ says. It says that the guard wasn't eating or holding anything when it all happened. They report that the guard had been talking to a black-haired wizard and the guard had dropped to the ground seconds before the wizard escaped into the Ministry. Apparently, when the first Healers arrived, he claimed that he'd slipped on some spilled tea. A minute later, he claimed that it was a miscast charm. Apparently, when the _Prophet_ came to talk to him, it had become the effects of wielding a cursed quill."

"A new issue of the _Quibbler_?" commented Ron. "That's rather convenient, isn't it?"

"It's only out two days early," she replied. "Honestly, with a story like this, you can't really expect them to wait, can you? Especially when everyone else who knows anything about it has been Obliviated."

"Hold on," Harry said. "Who wrote that story?" Fear was prickling up his spine. Someone had seen what had happened to the old man, and they'd recognized him. How much did they know?

Ginny frowned and held the page up for Harry to see. "It doesn't say who wrote it, and I can't say I blame them. It's pretty late to send out Obliviators, but I wouldn't want to take the chance that Scrimgeour would."

"Maybe it's not as important to him as it looks," Harry suggested weakly.

"Someone did something to that man, and the Ministry is trying to hide it," Ginny insisted. "You were standing right in front of him, and you didn't see anything?"

"No."

"You're sure you didn't hit him with any charms or hexes?"

"I don't know what happened to him!" Harry nearly shouted. "I guess I just assumed that it was Josef's idea of help. Maybe there was another Brotherhood member nearby. I think I remember a couple of curses that could make something like that happen." Ginny gave him a dubious look. "Don't look at me like that," he said sharply. "My wand hand was tied to a desk at the time."

Ginny frowned and gave him a slightly apologetic look. Harry returned to his breakfast, but he couldn't help but think about the guard. He knew why Ginny hadn't seemed satisfied with his answer. Even he wasn't satisfied with it. If there had been another Brotherhood wizard, why hadn't they made any more effort to help him earlier? Why use such a clumsy, obvious solution to a very simple problem. What other explanation could there be?

It couldn't have been him, he told himself as he chewed on the crust of the bread. He hadn't cast any spells. His wand had been pointed at the floor. He couldn't have. However, this did little to convince him. It was all true, and yet he knew it wasn't all of the truth.

It couldn't be, he repeated to himself. If he'd wanted to hurt the man, he would have known.

Wouldn't he?

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Well, it's been a bit, but this is just the start. Keep your eyes open. Chapter 13 is coming out tomorrow and it's sure to be worth a late night of reading.

As always, feel free to email me with questions or comments. I really do respond to most of them.


	13. Luna's Mistake

_This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

**CHAPTER 13**

**Luna's Mistake**

* * *

Harry spent the next day wandering about Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Ginny and Hermione had left to do whatever it was they did for the Ministry now. This left Harry alone with Ron. In the past, this might have sounded like a pretty good way of spending a day, but there were only so many times he could lose a chess match and find it interesting. 

Over the last year, he'd stocked the house with a number of books, mostly spellbooks or old tomes discussing the history of dark magic. He'd read most of them and, ironically, the size of the library made it tedious to find the ones he had not. He managed to find a few new ones, but ended up tossing them back on the shelf after remembering why he had not read them. He gave up reading altogether after running across the story of an old Auror who lost his mind and spent the rest of his life —which ended up being shorter than he would have liked— creating some of the worlds most horrendous dark magic spells. In the end, being ridiculed by his own chess pieces was more enjoyable than reading about any of that.

However, even Ron quickly became bored of chess. Of course, Ron had a head start on Harry. He'd been getting bored for weeks now, and had taken to occasionally leaving the house without notice. There seemed to be no pattern to it, and now that Harry was confined to the walls of his own house, he envied his friend's sporadic escapes.

When Ginny returned that night, she looked less cheerful than Harry had hoped. The most recent _Prophet_ had run a second article on the events following Harry's latest visit. In it, they questioned the reliability of the unknown author of the recent article in the _Quibbler_, claiming that they only hid their name so the Ministry couldn't question them.

"Or Obliviate them," corrected Harry. Once he was finished with the story, he shrugged and looked back at Ginny. "I don't know exactly why they felt the need to respond. I can't believe this is the first time the _Quibbler_ has contradicted the _Prophet_. Whoever wrote the article for the _Quibbler_ is probably already off researching some crazy new conspiracy."

Harry was closer than he realized. Ginny turned to the back of the _Quibbler_ and pointed out another article. Just like the one on the front page, this one had no author, and, if anything, the contents were even more worrisome.

The title told him almost everything he needed to know: _Romanian Cult Infiltrates Ministry_. It went on to list a number of details. Some of them were correct, some of them were wildly incorrect, and most of them seemed to be nothing more than guesses based on a few pieces of information. At the very end, there was a paragraph which didn't seem to fit in with the rest of the article. Harry guessed that it had been added at the last moment. In it, the author suggested that this cult had been responsible for Grigore Tarus's death and that they might have been the reason why Harry had been hiding for a year.

"Who wrote this?" Harry asked seriously. "Someone has to know. I mean, the _Quibbler_ doesn't have that many people working for it. I'll send an owl to the goblins at Gringott's. They can find anything, for a price."

"I already know who wrote it," Ginny answered plainly. "Luna Lovegood."

"Alright," Harry replied, realizing this shouldn't have been terribly surprising. "How do you know that?"

"Josef talked to me after I left the Ministry," she explained. "He said that she showed up in Romania today asking questions about you and a cult of dark wizards."

"What did they do to her?" he asked, fearing the worst.

"Nothing," Ginny replied. "Nothing at all. They didn't want to do anything until they asked me about her."

Harry shook his head. "I never thought I would say it, but at least she's only got to deal with the Brotherhood and not the Ministry."

* * *

Harry was levitating a painting down the second floor staircase when he heard the front door slam shut. He had been alone in the house, so it could only mean that someone had arrived. It seemed a little early for Ginny or Hermione to be returning, and it was as difficult to predict when Ron would return as it was to predict when he would leave. 

At the moment, his attention was focused on the painting floating in front of him. It depicted a gaunt, pale-faced witch stooping over a steaming cauldron. Though far from the sort of art Harry normally picked, that wouldn't have been enough for him to throw it into the cellar. It was the skull floating in the cauldron that really ruined the aesthetic for him.

It was yet another item which Kreacher had put up during the short time that the house had been empty after Grigore had shown up on Grimmauld Place. As he searched the house for any source of amusement, he was beginning to run across various things that Kreacher had tried to return to their previous places. Harry only wished that he could be as quick or motivated about taking them down.

He reached the second floor and nimbly maneuvered the painting around the corner where a huge mirror had hung only a week before. He tried to forget the nagging worries he got whenever he thought about what had happened that night. Once they'd stopped Reynard they would be plenty of time to work out just how he'd done it.

"Harry?" called a familiar voice.

Harry felt his spirits lift a little. "Up here, Ginny," he called back to her. He nudged the painting forward a little faster. As he neared the bottom of the stairs, Ginny strolled into view. Her hair was slightly tangled and her eyes looked tired, but she was smiling. She paused for a moment to stare at the painting hovering ahead of him.

"That's an... interesting painting," she said as her smile soured slightly.

"Kreacher put it up in one of the empty rooms on the third floor," Harry explained. "I think he was hoping I wouldn't notice it if he kept the room as dusty as possible."

"It's going to the cellar with all the others?" she asked. Harry nodded and she quickly pulled out her wand. "Here, let me take that. I've got a letter for you." With a flick of her wand, the painting zoomed away from Harry, allowing him see a roll of white parchment in her other hand.

"That's for _me_?" he asked, frightened at what it might mean. Had something bad happened in Romania? Had someone taken the _Quibbler_ seriously? No one was supposed to know he was alive. If the Minister found out, he might think that Harry had done it himself. He frantically turned the roll over, searching for some sign of where it came from.

"Where did you get this?" he asked Ginny urgently. "Who gave it to you? Did you tell anyone at the Ministry about—"

Ginny craned her neck around to give him a reassuring look. "Relax, Harry. Harrington gave it to me. I think it's from the Minister."

"Scrimgeour? Why would he send messages through you and Harrington?"

"Well, it looks like he tried to send it by owl," she explained as she guided the painting into the kitchen. "Honestly. He should have known better than that. I guess he thought it would look suspicious if he delivered it directly to me. It wouldn't," she added with some bitterness. "He's done it before, but I guess he's just paranoid. Harrington is the only other person he can trust who knows you're alive. I don't think Reynard would make the best messenger right now."

Harry smiled to himself at the thought of Reynard seething in his dungeons. He unrolled the message and read it as he followed Ginny into the cellars. Considering the length of the parchment it had been written on, the message was surprisingly short. He had finished reading it before he had even finished unrolling it:

_Meet Harrington at Midnight. Ministry Atrium. Miss Weasley and Mr. Kantos to attend._

Harry re-read it as Ginny stacked the painting on top of twenty others they had removed over the past week. When she was finished, he passed it to her to allow her to read it.

"I can only assume this is good news," she said with a slight shrug. "If he was upset, I think he would have used a few more words."

"Why are you supposed to be there?" he asked. "And what about Josef? Does he even know that he's supposed to show up?"

"Don't worry about Josef," Ginny replied. "I can get a message to him. If I had to guess, I think we're supposed to be there to make it harder to tell just what's going on. If Harrington meets you in the Atrium, it'll be easier for you to avoid the guards. Josef said the Brotherhood does that all time with the members who work in the Department of Mysteries."

_Like Hermione,_ he thought to himself. No matter how much of a distraction Harrington or the Minister had planned, Harry knew he would need some sort of disguise. The last thing he wanted was another sweep of Obliviators through the Ministry because he showed his face.

Ginny gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before fixing her hair up and heading back out the door. She said she needed to the get to the _Leaky Cauldron_. It took Harry a moment to remember that the other Brotherhood member that had helped them, the one Ginny called Albert, had made that a permanent post of his. Harry had never really met him before, but he remembered Josef talking about him. Of course, Josef had called him Aleksey. It was common for members of the Brotherhood to adopt completely different personalities, complete with new names, when working abroad. If Aleksey had returned to his post at the _Leaky Cauldron_, they should be able to track down Josef, wherever he was.

* * *

Harry felt the world pop into place around him. He was in one of the dimmer corners of the Atrium. He had far too much practice Apparating into specific areas of the hall. Every other time he'd needed it he was only using the Atrium as a safe place to jump through the Floo Network. This time he actually intended to stay. 

Within seconds of appearing, he saw three shapes approaching him. One was shorter than the others, with flaming red hair which shimmered in the torchlight. The other two were taller, one in Ministry robes and the other in the dark purple cloak of the Romanian guards.

"Good evening," Harrington greeted him. "How convenient that you Apparate into the darkest corner of the room."

"I've had quite a bit of practice," Harry replied flatly.

"Your Apparation is just fine," Josef said as he stood between Harry and the security desk at the far end of the hall. "You should spend more time on your disguises, though. Did you actually mean to make that beard or is it the side effect of some other failed spell?"

Ginny ignored the comment. "Harrington has news from the Minister, Harry."

"If it's not a spell, then I'd sure like to hear how you got the yak to stand still," continued Josef. "I've tried once or twice—"

"—Josef—" Ginny interjected with a glare.

"—but they're rather twitchy for such large beasts."

"Josef!" scolded Ginny. "Enough."

He frowned and glared at her. "Why am I here?" he asked with obvious impatience.

Harrington was the first to reply. "I need to speak with Harry," he said in a low voice. "If the four of us stand here much longer, those guards are going to come out to investigate. We can't have that."

"You're sure?" Harry asked. "They've never—" Before Harry could even finish telling them how many times he'd met with wizards in the Atrium, he spotted a pair of guards walking through the security gate and directly towards them.

"I know they will because they work for Reynard," explained Harrington. "I was hoping Mr. Kantos would be able to provide some sort of distraction or barrier.

The guards were nearly to the fountain. Josef quickly pulled his wand from his pocket and offered it to Harry. "Take it, and give me your wand." Harry just stared at him as if he was mental. "Don't think about it, Harry, just do it. We don't have time." Slowly Harry drew out his wand and handed it to Josef. He took it quickly and dropped his own into one of the pockets of Harry's robes.

"Don't worry," he hissed. "I won't even scratch it." As he turned away, he grabbed Ginny's arm firmly and pulled her along with him. "Ginny and I need to speak privately. She'll see you later," he whispered over his shoulder.

Harry and Harrington watched as Josef and Ginny began walking toward the security desk. The pair of guards stopped at the fountain and watched them walk to the wizard sitting behind the desk. As Josef started talking to the wizard, the pair of guards appeared torn between which pair of visitors they should investigate further.

"If they walk toward us, let me do the talking," Harrington whispered. However, it didn't matter. Whatever Josef had said seemed to have caught their attention. Harry saw him take out his wand and hand it to the guard. A few seconds later things had started getting very interesting. The two guards had drawn their wands on Josef, and a small piece of parchment was flitting through the gate toward the lifts.

"It looks like Reynard is still looking for your wand. That should give us plenty of time," Harrington said with a muffled laugh. "I'm sorry I couldn't give you more of a warning. For a former Auror, the Minister is absolutely horrible at getting messages to hiding wizards. If he would have been thinking clearly, he just would have given a message to Ginny's brother when he was here this afternoon."

"Bill was here?"

"No, Ron," Harrington replied with a confused expression. "Does Bill know about you as well? How many people have you told?"

"Just a few, but we can trust them," Harry answered. "Why was Ron here?"

"That's not important right now," he replied. With occasional nervous glances toward the guards, Harrington handed him a small wooden box and began explaining why he had called Harry to the Ministry. The Minister had finally finished making his plans to reveal Harry to the rest of the wizarding world. Luckily, it was Harrington who was explaining it to him and Harry felt no need to try and hide his disgusted expression as he heard what was planned.

* * *

"He wants you to go to a celebration?" Ron exclaimed incredulously. 

"Harrington said it was more of a commemoration ceremony for everyone who died in the war," replied Harry.

"I'm sure it will be," Ginny added, "right up to the point when you suddenly appear at his side. After that, I suspect there might be a few fireworks."

Ron gave a derisive snort. "I don't expect there will be much of anything unless he tells anyone about it. When did he plan to do this? I haven't heard a thing."

"You will tomorrow," Ginny answered. "Josef said the _Daily Prophet_ is already printing the announcements. They're to be posted all across Britain tomorrow morning. The Minister didn't want to give Reynard any time to try and ruin it."

"So when is this celebration supposed to be?"

"In two days," Harry replied.

Ron winced momentarily. "Friday? But that's the start of the Quidditch World Cup. He wouldn't—"

"Of course he would. It's even planned for the evening so they can announce it during the matches and get the news out even faster. Scrimgeour will go from a worthless politician to a hero in a matter of hours."

"And this is supposed to happen at Diagon Alley? How much of a surprise can that be?" Ron asked. "There's only one Apparation point. It seems like a pretty poor choice to have a ceremony, but you can't really walk anywhere without everyone seeing you. Or does he know about the Invisibility Cloak?"

"Harrington gave me this," Harry replied, holding up the wooden box. "There's a Portkey inside, set for the exact time of the ceremony."

"Brilliant," Ron groaned. "Everyone will think that Scrimgeour is somehow responsible for bringing him back. The press will go mental."

"Not to mention that the news of Harry's return will be read by every wizard who picks up the _Prophet_ looking for the Quidditch Scores," added Ginny. "Of course, the press might not be so pleased when they find out that the Minister lied to them."

Hermione smiled and held up the last issue of the _Quibbler_. "Oh, I'm sure Luna will be more than pleased. After all, Harry's going to be proving her right."

Harry stared at the photo on the parchment Hermione was holding and felt a slight chill. "She's going to think she was right about everything," he mumbled. While it wasn't the first time the _Quibbler_ had mistakenly reported something that was actually true, this time posed a little more danger than last time.

The problem wasn't that she was right about Harry, but that she was right about the cult of wizards infiltrating the Ministry. So long as everyone just ignored it as more of the fanciful accusations from the _Quibbler_, the Brotherhood wouldn't try to stop her. That would do more to confirm their existence than hide it. However, if she kept looking, she would eventually find enough to make people start to take notice. Once that happened, the Brotherhood would be forced to act.

"We have to talk to Luna—" Harry announced, "—before anyone else sees me. We can't risk her running off and writing something she'll regret."

"Too late for that, mate," Ron said as he picked up the previous month's _Quibbler_. The headline read: _New Dentistry Charms Leave Rotfang Conspiracy Toothless._

"This is serious, Ron," Harry continued. "If she runs off to Romania to write another article, she might not come back."

"I'll talk to her," Ginny reassured him. "I'll have her stop by Fred and George's shop before the ceremony starts.

"About that," Ron said hesitantly. "I, er— I won't be... there."

"You _won't be there_?" snapped Hermione. "Why not?"

Ron looked rather sheepish now. His shoulders drooped and he fell back into a chair. "I knew I should have told you before but— Well, I didn't expect things with Harry to go this way. It was supposed to be normal by now." He ran his hand through his hair, looking rather like Harry while doing it.

"I've got a job," he announced.

Hermione's mouth worked silently for a moment before she remembered how to speak. "Doing what?"

"Remember when Ginny requested all those Aurors from the Minister? Well, they don't have any spare Aurors, so they started looking for any wizards with experience dueling or fighting dark wizards." Ron looked up at Hermione and shrugged. "I applied. Me and about thirty other blokes are providing extra security for the Quidditch World Cup."

"The Quidditch World Cup doesn't need security, Ron," Hermione argued. "It was just a trick to get the Ministry to prepare for a war with your best mate," she said, pointing at Harry.

"I know that, but they're paying forty-five Galleons per match with free tickets to every other match —even the championship."

Hermione's mouth dropped open. "You're doing this for _tickets_?"

"No, I'm doing it because I'm bored out of my skull," he replied. "The tickets just make it a better idea than spending the year with Fred and George. There is also something I've been trying to save my gold for. I didn't think you'd mind that." None of this seemed to soften Hermione's mood. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, but it felt... I don't know... petty? If it makes you feel any better, I'm not going to enjoy it."

"I find that hard to believe," she shot back at him.

"The match is going to be horrible," Ron replied. "I drew the Albania match. I was hoping for the Bulgaria match. At least then I could have watched one good team play."

"Well if it's going to be so boring, why are you going? There isn't any way you can get out of it?"

"Well, I suppose I could, but it's sort of a job, Hermione," Ron explained. "And nothing against Harry—" he said with an apologetic look, "—but even if I could, why would I want to?"

Hermione gasped in outrage. "Because Harry is your friend?" she nearly shouted. "Friends support each other."

"Yeah, I know, but if I tripped and broke my leg, I wouldn't expect Harry to break his as well." Harry chuckled at the thought. Perhaps he had a point after all. Ron noticed the change in Harry's expression and continued with a little more courage. "He's got to go —and I feel really bad about that— but that's no reason to ruin my day, too."

"Ronald! How could—"

"No, he's right," interrupted Harry. "That match in Belgium is looking pretty tempting right now. Can you get me tickets?"

Ron nodded quickly. "I could. I doubt they've even sold a quarter of them. I expect they'd be more valuable as kindling. Of course, I could just sneak you past the gate..."

"Stop it, both of you," scolded Hermione. "Harry is going to the ceremony. He doesn't have a choice, and if you were really his best mate, you'd be going with him."

Hermione turned and strode out of the parlor. As she left, Ginny turned to glare at Ron as if waiting for him to follow her. When he failed to leave his seat, she rolled her eyes, let out a frustrated sigh and walked out in the same direction Hermione had left.

Harry and Ron exchanged silent looks for a few seconds. Harry shrugged and sat down in another chair. "So..." he began with a sigh, "the Albania match. They're playing Turkey, aren't they?" Ron nodded. "Who do you think will win?"

"Albania," Ron replied confidently.

"I thought Turkey was looking pretty good," Harry replied lazily.

"They were. Their Keeper took a Bludger to the head a few weeks back. They say his sight has mostly returned. And then their Seeker's wife caught him with a sixteen year old witch in Sao Paulo. He's been having troubles flying straight since then." Ron turned to look in the direction Hermione and Ginny had left. "If I had the choice, I think I'd prefer the Bludger."

* * *

Ginny came back early from the Ministry the next day. She claimed that she'd done it because there was nothing pressing to do and she would need to stay later than usual the next week when the whole department would be handling the inevitable disputes following the first round of Quidditch World Cup matches. Harry suspected she was feeling as uncertain about the next day as he was and just wanted to get away from the Ministry and relax. 

He'd hoped that her early return might have coincided with one of the meetings which had been causing Ron to disappear lately. To his dismay —and seemingly Ginny's as well— Ron was both present and alert when Ginny returned. The moment she and Harry tried to sneak off somewhere more private, he started suggesting quite a few games they might try to play.

The message was quite clear: he wasn't in a good enough mood to let them share any time alone. Perhaps if Hermione returned, the two of them might slip away to find some privacy of their own. They were always a little more affectionate after a fight. Until then, Harry was happy enough to share the sofa with Ginny. She was sitting comfortably against some large pillows reading the most recent edition of the _Quibbler_. Harry was lying down with his head in her lap as he skimmed through a rather old book titled _Dark Magic of the Dark Ages_. Ron was sitting on the floor on the other side of the room, meticulously cleaning his broom.

As they read quietly, Ginny was casually running her free hand through his hair. To Harry, it was as close to paradise as he could get with Ron still around. Though he was reading about all manner of horrible attacks and gruesome accounts of torture, he found that he was in an uncommonly good mood. Ginny seemed to sense this as well. The corners of her mouth were turned up slightly in a faint smile. She looked content and relaxed.

Harry heard a faint noise from the other side of the door to the room and turned to look toward it. The whole house seemed to shudder with the shock of a door slamming. Harry listened as sharp footsteps approached quickly.

"Er, it doesn't sound like she's had a good day," mumbled Ginny as she looked up from the _Quibbler_.

Seconds later, the door to the parlor was tossed open and Hermione entered wearing a scowl. Harry lowered his book to blink at her. It seemed like a bad time to make any manner of humorous comment. Silence was probably the most respectful thing. Hermione had different ideas. She wanted to talk.

"I was called in to the Ministry to give a formal report of what has been happening at Hogwarts," she announced.

"Oh, is that why you're in more formal robes?" commented Ron. "I don't think I've seen them before."

"Yes, I get taken more seriously this way," she replied dismissively. "The Minister and the heads of all the departments were there."

"It didn't go well?" Ron asked weakly.

"Oh, it went just fine," she answered sourly. "It's not like any of them really cares much about the attacks. They only care when it starts making them look bad. No, the interesting part came when I tried to leave. There was a wizard waiting for me near the fountain in the Atrium. He handed me this. She produced a small wooden box from her pocket and handed it to Harry.

It was heavier than he expected, and once he got it open, he understood why. It was half-filled with galleons, leaving just enough room for a rolled note. The seal had already been broken, so Harry didn't feel bad reading it.

_Miss Granger,_

_Your presence will be required at the upcoming celebration in Diagon Alley. You are ordered to provide protection and assistance to the evening's special guest. The Ministry of Magic needs to have a responsible and trustworthy representative with him at all times to see that all obligations are fulfilled. Periodic reports will be given to both the Minister of Magic and your Head of Department. Please accept the gold as compensation for you extended workday. The Ministry thanks you for your assistance._

_Sincerely,_

_Randolf_

Somewhere above him, he heard Ginny gasp. "_A responsible and trustworthy representative..._" she read aloud. "I wonder which one of those I'm not."

"You did lie to them," Harry replied as he flipped the note over, looking for the part that had upset Hermione.

"We all lied to them," argued Ginny as she snatched the note from Harry. "I lied to keep you safe. You'd think that would count for something. I mean, if they want someone who'll be around you at all times, I think I'd be the natural choice."

"What's the problem?" Harry asked Hermione. "It looks like forty Galleons or more. Is that not enough? I know I can be difficult sometimes, but that's quite a bit of gold."

"It's not the gold," Hermione groaned. "I was going to be there anyway, it's—"

"If you don't want to do it, I will," offered Ginny. "Forty Galleons would buy me a really nice set of robes. I'll need something nice for the ceremony." She folded the _Quibbler_ and frowned. "Of course, I'm not _responsible_ or _trustworthy_."

"Oh, don't worry. _I_ think you are," he said in a sympathetic voice. "I'd give you fifty Galleons to keep an eye on me for the night."

"Fifty?" Ginny replied appraisingly. "Well, I was going to do it anyway, but I'll take it."

Hermione was staring at them with a disgusted frown. Behind her, Ron didn't look much more comfortable. "Are you two done?" she asked impatiently.

Harry smiled. "Probably not," he laughed, "but we can get back to that later." He picked up his book again and tried to find where he'd left off. "Honestly, Hermione. I can't see what's got you so upset."

"They're paying me to follow you, Harry," she said sharply.

"Not bad work, if you can get it," commented Ginny as she reached for the _Quibbler_ again. "Low stress, fairly low risk, an excellent view..."

Harry tried to control his laughter. "You make it sound like you'd rather be filling inkwells or scouring cauldrons. That's quite a bit of gold for very little work."

"It's wrong!" she nearly shouted as she glared at him.

"What's so wrong about it?" he asked with genuine confusion. "You already said that you were going anyway."

"Yes, but—"

"Was it wrong to go before they gave you the gold?"

"No, it's not—" Hermione started to complain.

"Well, then the situation hasn't really changed, except that now you've got a few extra Galleons in your pocket."

"My offer still stands," Ginny added as she continued reading. "Hell, you can tell them that for two of those boxes, I'll keep him company all night and make him breakfast in the morning. We might have to negotiate just what gets discussed in those reports, though."

A faint choking noise came from the opposite side of the room. Harry turned to find Ron glaring at him and Ginny. "You know, just because I accept that you two share a bed doesn't mean I want to hear you talk about it."

Harry lifted his head and glared at Ron. "Right, well it's not like you've slept in your bed this week."

Ron's jaw dropped and his cheeks began to fill with color. "Bloody hell, Hermione," he cried. "Why'd you have to tell him that!"

Hermione's shoulders sagged and she rolled her eyes in annoyance. "I didn't tell him anything Ron, but you just did."

Ginny's head bent as great peals of laughter erupted from her throat. "Lucky guess, I suppose," she said once she'd calmed down.

Ron returned to his broom and tried not to look at them. Harry was still chuckling and his head bounced lightly as Ginny's stomach continued to tremble with laughter. Hermione was much less amused.

"This is serious," she snapped. She grabbed the box and brandished it at Harry. "They're using me to spy on you!"

"Isn't that what you've been doing for a while now?" Ron commented dully. "No, wait— the Ministry had you spying on Ginny. It was those Brotherhood blokes who used you to get to Harry."

Harry heard a rustling of parchment and found Ginny staring at Ron in shock. Hermione's expression was something much closer to hurt betrayal.

"I'm pretty sure that wasn't the right thing to say," commented Harry.

"Not in this world," Ginny replied as she shook her head. "At least he didn't make some comment about how she looks a little plump in those robes."

"What?" cried Hermione as she whirled about to face Ginny. She tugged at her robes as she stared down at them. "I don't, do I?"

"Of course not," Ginny and Harry answered simultaneously. Hermione raised an eyebrow and gave them a dubious glare. When Ron didn't chime in, she turned her gaze on him. "Ron? Do I?" she prompted.

Ron stared back at her with frightened eyes. He had frozen just as he was about to trim back a bent twig. "Er... Well, a little, I guess," he stammered. "I'm sure it's just the light or the way the robes were made, though."

Ginny let out a quiet groan and Harry had to drop his book to cover his mouth so he didn't laugh too loudly.

Hermione crossed the room quickly, scowling at him. "You think this is funny?" she asked in a voice which sounded eerily like Professor McGonagall when she was angry. However, Harry's overwhelmingly good mood prevented it from having its full effect.

"There's nothing funny about ill-fitting robes," he said, barely holding in another round of laughs.

Hermione's anger broke suddenly, but instead of turning into laughter as Harry expected, she became intensely melancholy. The box dropped from her hand, spilling Galleons across the colorful rug covering the parlor floor.

She stared at him with pleading eyes. "Could you be serious for just one minute, Harry?"

Harry sat up and took a deep breath. "Look, Hermione. I understand what you're saying, but what is the worst thing that can happen? I _want_ them to know what I'm doing. I'd welcome a little support. I only wish they could've been this helpful months ago. To be honest, I like the idea that you'll be with me all the time. I was afraid I was going to have to spend all my time with Scrimgeour."

This didn't seem to improve Hermione's mood much. Anger and resentment were still boiling behind her eyes. "I don't like being a pawn," she said in a low voice.

"Then don't be one," he told her in a clear voice. "If you need the gold, I've got plenty. I'm sure Grigore wouldn't mind donating a sack of Galleons to you."

"It's not that easy, Harry. If I say no, they'll find a way to punish me."

"Then say yes. You've still got to pay for that flat in Diagon Alley," he reminded her. "You were going to join me anyway. Agreeing to this doesn't make you their pawn."

"Maybe not," she said in an emotionless voice, "but they get what they want and I still don't have a choice, do I?"

Ron quietly stood up, taking his broom with him, and walked over to where the Galleons had fallen on the floor. He carefully began picking them up and placing them back into the wooden box. Hermione helped him and after only a little while, they finished. Ron began silently leading her from the room, but she stopped him for a moment.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I'm just— I've done a lot of things that I wish I hadn't. I'm not proud of them. They seemed to make sense at the time, but I shouldn't have done them." She rubbed her eyes and tried to smile. "Even if I was already going to do this, it feels wrong. I'll do this. I just hope I don't regret it." Ron wrapped a comforting arm around her and they left the parlor.

For some time, Harry and Ginny just sat quietly on the sofa. When Ron and Hermione didn't return, Harry slowly laid back down, resting his head in Ginny's lap as he opened his book again. Ginny sighed faintly and returned to her copy of the _Quibbler_.

Ron and Hermione didn't return to the parlor that night. In fact, they didn't even return to the house. They had left sometime after the events in the parlor, and had left no information about when they would be returning. He had a few good guesses as to where they might have gone, but he knew that it would be better to simply let them be alone.

Though some of his happiness had been drained away, Harry didn't let Hermione's mood ruin his own. After another hour or so of blissful relaxation on the sofa, the two of them made their way to the kitchen where they made their supper together.

Harry reminded himself that everything was not alright in the world, and that two students were still unconscious after being attacked, but he couldn't help but feel some amount of relief. That night would be his last night hiding from the wizarding world. He felt confident that his weak alliance with Scrimgeour would succeed in stopping Reynard. Things were not back to normal, but for the first time in years, he could almost imagine what it would be like.

Harry pulled the small roast from the place it had been hovering in the fireplace and placed it on a small platter in the center of the table. Ginny was still finishing up on the potatoes. With a mischievous smirk, he pulled out his wand and waved it at a drawer of silverware not far from Ginny. The drawer opened slowly and Harry nearly choked as he watched a number of forks and spoons leap forth onto the counter.

They quietly assembled into a makeshift utensil army, with the spoons in the front. As they quietly marched toward Ginny, Harry could not contain his laughter any more. Ginny turned to see what was so amusing and spotted the pack of silverware trying to set up some sort of ambush. With quite a clatter, the spoons hopped forward as quickly as they could.

Ginny stared in complete bewilderment for a moment. The cause of the spectacle was easy enough to see; Harry's wand was still out and directing his metal minions. She appeared to be more confused about just what to do about it. She pulled her wand from her pocket and took aim. Her first attempt failed. The forks leaped out of the way and then quickly reassembled.

As she looked about for something that might help her, Harry nearly doubled over in another fit of laughter. Only partially of their own accord, the forks had lifted a spoon from the counter and were positioning themselves not far from Ginny. With a flash of steel and a metallic _clink_, the spoon was launched into the air.

It struck Ginny directly on the forehead, making her blink and rub at the spot of the unexpected attack. When she recovered, her eyes narrowed at Harry. Her wand flashed, shooting a ball of white sparks at a nearby cupboard. After a couple of loud banging noises, a large wooden mallet jumped free and sailed toward the silverware.

Ginny broke out laughing as the mallet struck its first blow. Two bent spoons and a tangled fork were left twitching in its wake. Their laughs echoed throughout the house as the battle waged on. Within a minute, the last fork had been battered flat and Ginny and Harry collapsed into chairs and tried to catch their breath.

A few flicks of their wands cleaned up the bent and broken casualties of their brief war. Ginny finished up the last of the food while Harry set about putting dishes and cups on the table and levitating a number of candles about the kitchen.

They ate their dinner by the soft glow of candles. It was quiet for the most part, punctuated at times by more laughter as the candlelight glinted oddly off a twisted tine of a fork or the dented end of some spoon. The roast was slightly dry and the potatoes weren't quite done, but Harry didn't care. It was one of the best meals he could remember having.

The rest of the night went just as well. Harry read over the issue of the _Quibbler_ that Ginny had been reading earlier. They silently avoided the first few pages. Harry was having far too good of a day to spoil it by thinking of the Brotherhood or the Ministry or what Reynard might be up to. He wanted to simply relax and enjoy himself as he'd never been able to before.

The night slipped past them both, and soon Harry felt the first soft nudges of drowsiness. With gentle pushes from Ginny, he trudged up the stairs, reluctant to let the night end and face tomorrow. Ginny disappeared as she often did before sleep while Harry changed into his pajamas. As he waited for her to return, an idea crept into his mind.

When Ginny returned, he was lying in bed with his hands behind his head and a clever grin on his face. A simple bag of maroon velvet was sitting on her pillow. She eyed him suspiciously and carefully picked it up, obviously suspecting some sort of joke or prank. When she saw the contents, she raised an eyebrow and stared at him.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Fifty Galleons," he replied lightly. "You remember. You were going to keep an eye on me and make sure I don't run off."

Ginny tossed the small bag from one hand to the other. "Yeah, I think I can do that." Suddenly she tossed the bag toward Harry. He had not been prepared for it, and it struck his stomach, knocking the wind from his chest. Instinctively, he tried to reach down to push it off, but found that he couldn't. His hands wouldn't move.

He twisted his neck, trying to see what had happened and found his hands tied together by soft, thin, cords. When he turned back to Ginny, he saw her laughing as she walked around the bed and tied the free end to the closest bedpost.

"There," she chirped triumphantly. "That should keep you from running off or getting in any trouble."

Harry laughed nervously and tried tugging at the cords. Memories of seeing Ginny tied to the table in the abandoned shop in Romania flashed through his mind. "Er, Ginny..." he called out. "You're not, er— going to leave me like this, are you?"

"Are you joking?" she replied. "With all the trouble you've caused? No, Harry Potter, I am going to prove that I can be responsible and trustworthy." Ginny lit a nearby lamp and walked back around to her side of the bed. Harry didn't really know what to expect, but he knew it wasn't what happened next.

Slowly, Ginny pulled her hair out of the ponytail it had been in and shook it free. Then, she untied her dressing gown to reveal a short nightgown of golden silk. Harry couldn't keep the smile off his face.

"So... What are you going to do with me?"

Ginny's face lit up with a bright smile. She tugged at the bottom of her nightgown, then crawled up onto the bed and across to where Harry was lying. He didn't move, but felt the warmth of her breath on his neck. His body shuddered and he closed his eyes as her voice drifted softly into his ear.

"I'm going to read to you."

Harry's eyes flew open. "You're _what_?"

"I'm going to read a book," she said in a cheery voice. She reached out and tapped the tip of his nose playfully. "Honestly, Harry. Fifty Galleons? What more did you expect?"

Harry didn't need to spend even a second thinking of an answer. "Well, I was hoping—" he began to say, but his mind went blank as Ginny crawled over his chest and stretched out to reach for a book on the small table next to the bed. He could feel the warmth of her body as it brushed against him. Unfortunately, any hopes he had were dashed almost immediately.

"The book is named _They call me Esmeralda_," Ginny announced as she sat back down on the bed. Harry stared at her in fear, realizing that she wasn't joking. She turned the book to show him the illustration on the front cover. It was old, and somewhat worn, but the image of a young woman dancing in a long dress was still quite visible. "It's a story about a young witch living in France a long time ago. She's lost her parents and at the beginning, she's living with her uncle—" she said, pausing to nudge Harry with her leg, as if this information would somehow make him happier about being tied to his own bed, "—but she eventually runs away to Paris and meets Patrice. You'll like it."

For some time, Harry laid motionless, listening to Ginny's voice reading page after page. After the first chapter, he'd been expecting her to start laughing and put the book away, but she didn't. She continued on, reading a second and third chapter until Harry began to think that this was less of a joke and more of a torture session dreamed up to repay him for a cold, embarrassing night in Romania. At least he still had his clothes.

"Oh, look at the time," Ginny announced. "You've got a busy day tomorrow. Time for sleep." She slid across him to put the book back on the table and he groaned with frustration. He didn't know whether he wanted to hold her or hex her for what she'd done.

With a flick of her wand, the lamp next to him went out, dropping the room into darkness. He laid silently, waiting for something more to happen. He couldn't fall asleep like that, and he couldn't stay awake all night. He needed to be alert the next day.

"Er, Ginny?" he called out into the darkness. "Can you untie me now?"

"Why would I do that?" she responded almost immediately. She must have been waiting for him to complain.

"Because, er— I'm not going to be able to get to sleep like this and—"

"Why would you want to sleep?" she purred. Her voice came from somewhere nearby, but he couldn't see where.

"I need to be able to think quickly in case—"

He was interrupted by a pair of soft lips descended on his mouth. He could feel Ginny's hair trailing across his neck and shoulders as her head twisted slightly to continue the kiss. His throat tightened as he heard the rustling of silk against his chest and felt Ginny's legs pressing against his own.

Perhaps he didn't need sleep as much as he thought.

* * *

After peeling herself out of bed the next morning, Ginny barricaded herself in her office at the Ministry and read through a mountain of reports about the upcoming round of Quidditch World Cup matches. Officially she had been assigned to the international group of witches and wizards who handled any disputes between countries during the tournament. In practice, she didn't really do much at all. An older wizard from the Department of Magical Games and Sports handled nearly all of the work. This was necessary to some degree because of the level of distrust other officials had for her after she had voted for Bulgaria at the start of September. However, it still didn't excuse her from having to read the reports. 

Normally the idea of spending the day reading reports would have made her sick enough to leave early. Most of them were achingly petty. There had been dozens of disputes over which side of the pitch each country's fans would sit. Even at the most serious, they were merely disputing the choice of referee for the match. There weren't any problems which needed a lot of thought, but then, she wasn't looking for anything interesting to think about. She simply needed something to pass the time until the celebration that night.

She knew the rest of the Ministry was buzzing with gossip and rumors about the sudden announcement of the commemoration ceremony. Harrington had given her a knowing look when she walked in that morning, and that was the last she wanted to have to think about what was happening that night. She was relieved to be able to slip past Evelyn's office without confrontation. She felt even more fortunate to avoid her again when she stepped out of her office to pick up the new set of dress robes she'd ordered that morning. They were expensive and elegant, and she knew that Evelyn would never be able to stay silent if she saw it.

After a few more hours of reading the mindless bickering of egotistical Quidditch players, Ginny checked the clock on the wall and decided that she needed to leave. The ceremony was supposed to start at eight o' clock. That would give her three hours to find Luna and convince her to go to the twins' shop where Harry could speak with her. Before that, however, she needed to make sure he was actually there.

* * *

Ginny dodged through the growing crowd gathering all along Diagon Alley. She clutched the bag holding her dress robes close to her to keep it being battered by passing wizards. The crowd was growing faster than she had expected it to. Ron must have been right. The Quidditch matches simply weren't exciting enough to draw away the crowd. She could already imagine Harry's response. He'd been hoping to create as little of a spectacle as he could. 

The crowd was most dense around the plaza just outside Gringott's Bank. A small stage had been constructed in the center of it, and pairs of Aurors seemed to be loitering about nearby. Just behind the stage was a tall pointed structure covered in a thick black shroud. It looked like some sort of miniature tower. Most of the crowd in the area was staring at it much like she was, though they weren't moving, and this only made it more difficult for her to get past them. With some light prodding, she was able to open a way and continue on her way to the joke shop.

The crowd thinned and she was able to walk faster. She hadn't been expecting Aurors to be inspecting everyone Apparating into Diagon Alley and it had taken a half hour just to leave the area. The three hours she'd had when she left the Ministry was now just a little over two hours and she hadn't even found Harry yet.

Finally she saw her brothers' shop ahead of her. A small crowd was assembled just outside the door. As Ginny approached, she realized that they were reading a sign which had been posted on the door. Ginny walked closer, worried that there might be some problem.

_TO OUR VALUED CUSTOMERS:_

_Weasley's Wizard Wheezes will be closing early today due to this evening's events (and not the threats of a pack of Aurors as reported earlier). We regret this inconvenience and promise to open all the earlier tomorrow morning. We also regret selling the three bags of Expanding Gummy Foam which were accidentally released, immobilizing a dozen Aurors. Though, we won't regret selling them for half price tomorrow. Supplies are limited._

Ginny smiled and knocked at the door. The door trembled slightly as someone approached it from within the shop. It was jerked open suddenly, revealing only a few inches of darkness and the silhouette of a wizard.

"I told you lot to shove off!" shouted Lee Jordan. "So unless you want another set of antlers, you better—" His voice was cut short suddenly as his eyes fell on Ginny. "Oh! It's you. I— We, er... expected you earlier."

"So did I," she replied as she stepped through the narrow opening. Once she was through, Lee jabbed his wand at one of the children who made a dash to slip in behind her. There was a faint squeal and the door slammed shut quickly.

"Come on," Lee said in an oddly strained voice. "I guess you're here for... well, _him_. He's in the back room." Ginny followed him into the storage room in the back of the shop and found that it had changed rather dramatically. The cluttered shelves and wardrobes were still there, and the work table still stood against the middle of the far wall, but arrayed around the room was a collection of rather comfortable looking furniture. Fred and George were each reclining in a soft leather chair, Hermione was occupying a cushioned chair across the room, and between them Harry was lounging on a darkly-colored sofa.

Harry seemed to understand her surprise. "I've been here all day," he offered in explanation. "This place can get really dull after a few hours, so I redecorated."

Ginny dropped onto the sofa next to Harry. "How did you get them delivered? Did you hide in the closet?" Harry pretended to be insulted.

"Did it all himself," Fred laughed. "It was actually a pretty impressive display of transfiguration."

"These chairs are actually a pair of Fred's socks," George announced excitedly.

Ginny took a closer look at the sofa she was sitting on. "And what is this?" she asked.

"One of my shoes," answered Fred. "No idea where it's mate is."

"Well, as comfortable as your shoe is, I need to get back out onto the street and try to find Luna before the ceremony starts. I could use some help," she added with a friendly smile. "I'm sure Hermione can handle Harry by herself. I could use some help finding Luna."

Fred and George exchanged uncomfortable glances. "I think we'll just stay here if it's all the same," George said. "We, er— We sort of promised the Aurors that we wouldn't leave the shop until tomorrow morning."

"It was more of a personal favor," Fred interjected.

"I bet Lee would join you," Harry suggested with a smile. Lee jumped a little, but nodded quickly.

"I need to get dressed first," Ginny announced as she held up the bag carrying her new dress robes.

Harry's smile widened. "Ah, well _that_ I can help you with," he said with a laugh. After getting a glare from Ginny, he held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, I'll stay here. I'm sure Lee wouldn't mind helping you get dressed."

Ginny stood up and declared that she was perfectly capable of dressing herself. Without any guidance, she walked out of the room and up the stairs to the flat above the shop. After slipping into the dress, she pulled out her wand and put a slight curl into her hair. She realized that she would stand out in the crowd, but she also knew that anyone near Harry was going to be getting photographed repeatedly. If she had to be in the _Daily Prophet_ she wanted to look good.

Though she'd turned down Lee's help in dressing, she was happy to have him helping her search for Luna. By the time she made it back to the stage, the crowd had organized a little more. Ginny and Lee split up and began walking through the clumps of witches and wizards, looking for a short, blonde-haired witch. It was much more difficult than she had expected. To make matters worse, the sun had set and it was getting even more difficult to recognize faces in the dim light.

"Ginny!"

Somewhere nearby, Lee Jordan was calling her name. Ginny struggled through the ranks of wizards surrounding the stage and made her way toward the voice. He called out a second time, much closer now. She pushed past a family of wizards and found Lee standing behind a completely calm Luna Lovegood.

"Hello Ginny," she, said blinking passively back at her. "You look nice. Are you part of the ceremony?"

"Er... Not really."

"That's good to hear," replied Luna. "It's all just a charade, you know."

Ginny glanced nervously at the wizards around her. "Yes, well about that—"

Luna leaned close to her and began whispering very quickly. "You know this is just part of their plan to gather all of the most influential wizards so they can try out a new method of controlling wizards' minds." She paused to look around her. "The Romanians are helping them. I went there. I saw what it can do, and I think I know what the Minister wants—"

"Listen," Ginny interrupted her, "there's something we need to talk to you about."

"About the mind control?"

"Er, no..." Ginny replied. "Well, sort of but— Will you come talk to us?"

Luna stared blankly at her for a moment, then nodded her head. "Okay," she said cheerily. "We probably shouldn't do it here, though. There are Ministry employees everywhere."

Ginny smiled and quickly told her what they wanted her to do. Harry and Hermione had agreed that it would be best if they waited as long as they could before talking to Luna. They didn't want Rufus Scrimgeour to think they were trying to betray him and after what had been written in the _Quibbler_, he would have plenty of reasons to be suspicious of Luna.

"Your brothers' shop, is that the one farther down the street?" Luna whispered.

"Right, and remember: Use the back entrance. There's an alley on the far side. Follow it back and you'll see the door."

Ginny walked back to the shop in complete silence. Now that she had actually done it, she began to understand some of the risks involved. Harry had made a deal with the Minister and he was about to break that deal. If they were being watched by the Ministry, there was no telling what they might do. That was why she had told Lee to stay at the plaza and see if anyone followed her.

Lee never called out or made any attempt to stop her, so she assumed that no one had taken any interest in her presence or departure. When she finally reached the shop, she found the windows completely darkened. The sign was still on the door, but the band of disappointed customers was gone. As she walked up to the door, it opened quickly. She slipped through the doorway much like she had before.

The door to the back room was open now, letting flickering golden light pour into the main room. It provided just enough light for her to see the frown on Fred's face.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Harry's got a message for you," Fred answered. "I don't think it's good news."

Ginny quickly walked into the back room and found Hermione sitting stiffly in her chair while Harry paced back and forth between the couch and the work table on the far side of the room. He had changed into a new set of robes, but had apparently decided against wearing dress robes. In one hand he clutched a piece of parchment. As soon as he noticed her enter the room he stopped and stared at her with a strange expression. He looked frustrated and disappointed, but there was something else she didn't recognize.

"What's wrong, Harry? Is that from the Minister?"

"No," he answered flatly. "It's from Josef."

"What does it say?"

Instead of telling her, Harry walked across the room, handed the parchment to her. Ginny flattened it out and held it closer to read the small message which had been written in its center: _Meet me at your office at seven o' clock. J._

Ginny let out a sigh and looked at the clock. She had twenty minutes. "We found Luna," she said flatly. "She's coming here."

"When?"

"Seven o' clock, of course," Ginny answered. Harry frowned and let out a long, frustrated sigh. "Whatever Josef needs to talk to me about, I'll make it quick. I'll be back as quickly as I can, I swear."

"No," Harry replied in a defeated voice. "I'm sure this is Josef's idea of forcing me to make the right decision." He fell into one of the leather chairs and leaned forward, running a hand through his hair.

"When you come back, you should Apparate outside the _Leaky Cauldron_," he told her. "If you come back here, it will look suspicious. Hermione and I can handle Luna."

"I'll be careful," she insisted. "I know you're worried about this, Harry. I want to help you."

"No, it's—" He paused to take another deep breath. "You should go. It's better this way." He looked up into her eyes, but couldn't hide the confusion and fear in his eyes. "Everything is going to be fine, I promise. Go on. I'll see you at the ceremony. It will all be over soon."

Ginny didn't want to leave, but she knew that in situations like this, it was best to trust Harry and Josef. They always seemed to find the best solutions to any problems. With one last wave, she gave him a weak smile and Disapparated.

* * *

Something felt wrong. Harry couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he'd felt it since the moment he woke up that morning. Something was different. The world felt as though it was pressing in on him. Wherever he went he felt like he was trapped and someone was watching him. He'd reached back into his memory for all the tricks and charms the Brotherhood had taught him to find or detect wizards who might be following him, but he found nothing. 

The twins had been happy to have him show up that morning. He had Apparated directly into their flat as Ginny instructed him. It had been going perfectly until Lee Jordan had walked upstairs to investigate the noises. Harry had to stun him to keep him quiet and it took Fred and George quite some time to explain everything to him. When they finally returned to the shop, Harry could hear Verity shouting at them. Shortly after that, they had given her the day off and found a way to sneak Harry down into the back room and close it off for the day.

Harry had hoped that a change of scenery to something a little more familiar to him might have made him feel a little more at ease, but it didn't. He began transfiguring worthless junk about the room in an attempt to pass the time. It took a few tries to get the matching set of chairs to look nearly identical, but when he was done, the feeling returned immediately. Wherever he went, it felt as though something horrible was about to happen.

When Hermione arrived shortly after noon, the twins decided they'd had enough and closed the shop down for the day. Unfortunately, she'd done very little to make the hours until the ceremony pass any quicker. He and the twins had spent an hour or so applying extra charms to the new robes Hermione had picked up that morning. Feeling his wand in his hand felt somehow comforting and deeply disturbing at the same time. When he was finished, he forced himself to put it back in his pocket and not touch it.

When Ginny arrived late in the afternoon, he had wanted to tell her. The moment she walked through the door, he recognized the tense feeling behind her eyes. Perhaps everyone was feeling as uncomfortable as he was. Instead of talking to her, he joked with her and pretended to simply be bored with the wait. It seemed to relax her and that, in turn, relaxed him. It was the happiest he'd been all day.

She left shortly after that and for the first time that day, Harry felt a moment of peace. He convinced himself that he just needed to get through the ceremony and everything would be alright. Even if Harry couldn't do much to ensure that Scrimgeour wasn't planning anything suspicious, Josef could. This had been his idea as much as Harry's and he knew the Brotherhood wouldn't let him be thrown in prison or blamed for anything he didn't do. Not anymore.

Then it came: A dark colored owl carrying a single piece of parchment. Harry could _feel_ who it was from before he even opened the parchment. In a second, his relaxation burned away and he felt his muscles tighten. What could Josef have needed Ginny for? What could have been so urgent that it could not wait until later that night? Isn't that when he and Ginny always met? The Ministry was always dead quiet at midnight, but at seven o' clock that night, it would be filled with wizards urgently trying to prepare for whatever Scrimgeour had in store for them.

He paced about the room, clutching the parchment. It felt icy in his hand. He wanted to send it back and demand that Josef tell him why he needed to speak to her. Was Scrimgeour planning something? Had he betrayed Harry? As he stalked the room, he began to think of ways to reveal himself without the Minster's help. If he appeared just a minute or so early, he could make it clear that the Minister had not helped him. It would be too late for Scrimgeour to threaten Ginny or Hermione. The Order of the Phoenix could help him stop Reynard _and_ get Scrimgeour replaced. As he schemed, the intensity of his mood increased, eventually causing Fred and George to find other places to wait for Ginny to return.

When Ginny finally returned, Harry began to understand the purpose behind the message. He didn't want her to go. He wanted her to stay with him, and yet, that was exactly what she couldn't do. Josef was trying to help him. He must have known that it would be a difficult day for Harry and this was his idea of help. It took quite a bit of determination to tell Ginny not to come back to the shop, but he knew that Josef wouldn't let her anyway. Perhaps it was better that way. He was wound so tight that if she would have tried to reason with him, he was likely to end up shouting or saying something that would upset her. He reminded himself to thank Josef later.

Watching Ginny Disapparate had only intensified his discomfort. The moment she left, he wished he could chase after her and tell her to come back. He couldn't explain it. She'd met with Josef many times before that, but this time was different. He didn't want her to go even though he couldn't find any logical reason why she shouldn't. If Josef was there, he would have been able to come up with a dozen sharply worded reasons why she should distance herself from Harry before the ceremony.

The clock in the small room chimed seven o' clock. Hermione paused to stare at it. "Luna's late," she said uselessly. She let out a deep breath and walked out the door into the rest of the shop. She returned a minute later looking even more frustrated.

"Something is wrong," he announced, no longer caring what Hermione thought of him.

"Nothing is wrong, Harry. She's just late. That shouldn't be all that surprising."

"No, it's not that," Harry replied. "There's something else. I don't know if she's got anything to do with it, but something isn't right. I— I feel—"

"Just relax, Harry," Hermione told him. "Luna will be here any minute now. The last thing you want is to appear nervous in front of her. There's no telling what she'll think that means."

Harry tried to relax, but it seemed there was little reason for him to. Seven o' clock had passed without any sign of Luna. While Hermione paced about the room, Harry sat back on the sofa and tried to force from his mind the visions of Luna and Ginny being attacked by faceless wizards.

"Where is Luna?" Hermione growled as she stepped out into the main room of the shop. "She was supposed to be here ten minutes ago." With a frown, she walked to the work table where her dress robes were still laying after their recent improvements. "I can't wait any longer," she said as she lifted them from the table. "I need to get dressed," She gave Harry a threatening glare. "Don't go anywhere. If Luna knocks at the wrong door, let Fred or George get the door. I'll be back in a few minutes."

A moment after she left, George poked his head into the room. "Hey, Harry," he called out with a little less mirth than Harry was used to. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," Harry snapped. George flinched as if Harry had slapped him and started to step away from the door. "No— George, wait!" he called out. "I'm sorry, I'm just— well... a bit uneasy."

"Oh, right, of course," he replied with a smile. "If you like, we might be able to get you something for that. You know— calm your nerves a bit?" Harry stopped pacing and stared at him in surprise. He hadn't thought of that. It couldn't hurt.

George returned a moment later with a small teacup in his hand. The liquid inside it sparkled and swirled about lazily. "What is it?" asked Harry.

"Anti-Agitation Elixir," George replied. "It's actually a very small dose. Just enough to take the edge off, right? It's still got a bit of a sour aftertaste, but a splash of Firewhiskey takes care of that."

Harry eyed it suspiciously. He had been hoping for something a little less experimental. "What side effects are there? I can't really risk—"

"Oh, don't worry about that," George interrupted. "Other than a slightly cheery disposition, there aren't any. The only problem is the sour taste, but we've been selling it for months mixed with warm milk for parents. They love it." He leaned closer to Harry and began whispering. "I've also been slipping it into Fred and Verity's tea whenever they get a bit tetchy."

Harry thanked him and decided not to think too much about how often Fred or George had been drugging everyone else in the shop. With one swift motion, he tipped back the cup and drank it all. It wasn't nearly as bad as he'd expected. There was a slight sour taste to it, but it was mostly sweet with a mild warmth to it, probably contributed by the Firewhiskey. Fred waited a moment to see that it met his approval. After he failed to grow horns or turn into a goat, Harry nodded and thanked him.

The potion had worked much like George had suggested it would. Harry felt more relaxed and comfortable. It didn't get rid of his annoyance with Ginny's absence or the faint feeling that something bad was still about happen, but it made it much easier for him to ignore it.

He sat down on the sofa and relaxed, letting go of all of his worries and fears. He would show up at Scrimgeour's little mockery of a ceremony. It would be over in an hour, and by the end of the next week, Reynard would be in Azkaban. A year of running and hiding would be over. He could live a normal, happy life.

With Ginny.

He pictured her face and slowly, the world peeled away from him. It felt as though his ears had been filled with a horrible buzzing which he hadn't even noticed, and now it was finally gone. He closed his eyes and let himself fall into the calm darkness. He imagined a warm breeze blowing, just like the night he'd Apparated to the Burrow to tell Ginny that Voldemort was gone forever.

In the back of his mind, he heard the door to the room open. He didn't need to open his eyes. He knew it was Hermione. He could smell her perfume and hear the crisp sound of her shoes on the stone floor.

"Harry?" her voice called out. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," he answered lazily.

"Luna didn't show up?"

"No."

"Harry? What happened?" There was real concern in her voice. "When I left, you couldn't stand still. Now you're almost sleeping."

"I'm not sleeping," he replied. "I'm relaxed. George gave me some Anti-Agitation Elixir. It seems to have helped." There was a moment of silence. Harry didn't need to open his eyes to know that Hermione wasn't angry. She had been nervous about the ceremony as well, but now she was beginning to feel better.

"Harry, I— There's—" she began stammering. She paused, then continued in a slower voice. "Do you suppose we... we could send out Fred and George —for Luna, I mean." Her voice was strained and tense. "She's... supposed to be here. Maybe they could..."

Harry opened his eyes slowly and found Hermione facing away from him and staring at the door that led to the alley behind the store. Her dress robes were made of shimmering navy blue fabric, fitted all the way to her hips. The top was open, letting ringlets of her hair tumble over her bare shoulders. He realized that he was watching her, though he didn't really know why. There was something different about her, but he couldn't quite put his finger on just what it was.

She turned around and their eyes met. Instead of turning away, they both simply stared at each other. A strange warmth started to spread through Harry's chest. She started to say something, but stopped abruptly. Harry just stared at her lips. They were a soft reddish color, slightly brighter than usual. She was wearing lipstick. That was pretty rare, and yet he couldn't help but admit that it did make her lips rather alluring. They were moving, but no sound was coming out.

He stood up slowly. Hermione hadn't moved from her spot near the door, but her expression had changed from one of frustration to confusion. Without quite knowing why he was doing it, Harry walked over to her and put his hands on her shoulders. She jumped a little at his touch and looked up at him as he stared down into her eyes. He'd known her for eight years, but he'd never really looked into her eyes before. He'd always assumed they were completely brown, but as he examined them a little more closely he caught flecks of green shining in the torch light.

Her neck and back felt cold and the muscles there were stiff and tight. He frowned, and let his hands drift across her shoulders, leaving trails of heat and helping her relax. Her body relaxed and she inched forward until he felt the warmth of her body pressing against his. His mind swirled as he felt her quick, shallow breaths against his neck. Gradually, her eyes widened and her lips curled into a mischievous smile. Her hands slowly slid up his waist, across his chest and over his shoulders. As they reached up to his face, he felt only the briefest flash of anxiety. It was quickly swept away into oblivion as she pulled his lips down to hers.

All thought disappeared in a torrent of pleasure. His chest felt like it was being crushed and his ears were filled with a rushing noise that could only be the sound of his own blood. He couldn't tell just how long he had been standing there with his hands tangled in Hermione's hair, pressing her mouth against his. Just when he thought he was about to explode, Hermione pulled away from him.

He took in a deep gasping breath and found himself reaching for her again. She had no intention of running away. With a wild look in her eyes, Hermione pushed him backwards until the seat of the wooden chair struck the back of his knees. He fell backward clumsily and barely had time to open his eyes before his head was pinned to the back of the chair by another fierce kiss.

Harry heard ripping and opened his eyes. Hermione had torn open his robes and was currently tugging at the shirt underneath. With one last tug, the top three buttons of his shirt popped free. She pulled away long enough to let out a satisfied laugh, then pulled up the bottom of her robes and straddled Harry's lap. Their lips connected again and he felt her fingernails grazing his chest as they ripped the rest of his shirt open, exposing it to the cool air.

An instant later he felt a pair of hands running across his chest. They burned like brands against his skin, but it didn't stop him. Instead, he found himself clutching at the back of her robes. A pair of lips latched onto his neck and before he knew it, Hermione's robes were split down the back. Seconds later, it was split down the front as well. Hermione gasped into his ear and Harry felt the world spiral away from him.

Even as he floated away, he felt a tremor. Something was wrong. He felt it before he heard it. It was a burst of cold across his hot skin and a flash of light in the darkness. A single voice sliced into his mind:

"What the _bloody hell!_"

Harry's world shattered and he felt as though he'd been dropped into an icy lake. Paralyzed with a fear he couldn't quite understand, he opened his eyes and saw Fred and George standing just inside the doorway. Their glares were filled with more anger than Harry had ever seen from them, and they were directed at him. A faint squeak nearby pulled his attention away from the twins. He nearly choked as he turned and found Hermione only inches away, looking just as horrified as he felt.

Harry's body spasmed in a futile attempt to put more space between him and Hermione. She did the same thing, but with quite a bit more success. With a squeak, she tumbled off his lap and struck the floor with a dull thud.

"Should we kill them now or wait for Ron and Ginny?" Fred asked through clenched teeth.

"It's only fair to wait," George replied, equally angry. "After all, half the fun will be hearing the lies they make up to try and explain themselves."

Fred drew his wand and raised it slowly. "We don't really need them both, do we? One set of lies is almost as good as two."

"Good point," growled George. "Kill Harry. They can't send us to Azkaban for killing someone who died a year ago, can they?"

"No!" Harry shouted as he fumbled through the tattered remains of his robes for his wand. "No, you have to listen. It's not what it looks like."

"Oh, isn't it?" commented Fred. "Have they invented some new way of playing chess? What else could it be, _Potter_? There're only so many things that require intertwined tongues."

Harry's head throbbed at the reality of what they'd said. "No, I— Just give us a moment— Please, we can—"

"Give you a moment?" George shouted. "Oh, of course. How insensitive of us to interrupt. I suppose you weren't finished, were you? Perhaps you'd like to use our bed. It's got fresh pillows."

"Fred, George—" pleaded Harry.

Fred didn't let him speak. "A bed? Oh no, they're in a hurry. Why waste time with a bed, when you've got a sturdy table nearby? You know, the one Ginny was lying on when you saved her life. Remember her, do you? Short, red hair, nasty temper? She gave up a year of her life, you treacherous—"

"_Give us some time!_" Harry shouted in a commanding voice. To his surprise they both froze and simply stared at him. His throat tightened making it hard for him to breathe. What had he done? He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Please, just go into the next room," he told them. "We'll be out in just a few minutes." Without saying a word, they both turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind them.

Harry pushed himself off the chair and stumbled over to the couch. His legs were weak and the room was spinning around him as if he'd had a few too many pints of ale. As his head cleared, he saw Hermione sprawled out on the floor nearby. Her eyes were glazed and searching the room as if she were trying to figure out where she was. They finally found Harry and her body froze. Harry felt his stomach twisting inside him, and he doubled over to keep himself from being sick.

When he opened his eyes again, she was sitting with her back to the wall and her legs twisted awkwardly. Her hands were shaking and she was staring at them with disgust. Her face was still flushed and her lips were still slightly swollen, but her lipstick was smeared and her hair was a mess. Slowly, her hands dropped and she looked down at her dress robes. Harry followed her gaze and felt his throat tighten at the undeniable horror of what had just happened.

Hermione's robes were torn and barely clinging to her body. The back was opened up completely, leaving the front hanging loose and held in place by nothing more than the few inches of fabric connecting it to her sleeves. With a terrified gasp, she pressed her arms to her chest in a failed attempt to appear a little more decent. She rocked forward, exposing her bare back and a number of light scratches.

"No," Hermione sobbed as she pulled her knees to her chest. "No, no, no. It can't be... It's a dream. I'd never— I— No... please, no."

Harry was starting to feel dizzy again. Something had gone terribly wrong. He couldn't even start to understand what had happened. Pressing his hands against his eyes, he tried to wake himself up from the nightmare he was trapped in. It couldn't be real. It was just a dream. Any moment he would wake up and Ginny would be smiling at him and—

_Ginny._

A fresh, powerful wave of nausea hit him and he fought to keep control of his stomach. How was he supposed to tell her about this? The mere memory of it was bad enough; having to see the look on her face as he told her would be unbearable.

Against the wall, Hermione let out choked sob as tears streamed down her face. "What did we do?" she cried out. "How could we— I—" She began looking about wildly and breathing in quick, shallow breaths. "Where are Fred and George?" she asked in a panicked tone.

"The next room," croaked Harry. "I asked them to give us some time."

"You— asked them—" choked Hermione. Her eyes widened in fear as she stared at him. "You made them leave. You told them— and they just—" Her chest began rising and falling quickly along with her rapid, gasping breaths. "How did you do it? What happened to the guard at the Ministry, Harry?" she asked coldly. "He tried to stop you, didn't he? He tried to stop you and you made him let you go."

"I didn't do anything!" Harry shouted. "I just— I—" He tried to come up with some argument, but it didn't matter. He couldn't deny the connection any longer. "I... don't know what happened. I didn't want to hurt him. I would never—" He stopped and looked into her eyes. "I didn't think anything like this— I— I didn't want this to happen. I didn't want any of it, I just— I just want it to be over!"

He stood up on wobbly legs and began pacing. Why couldn't it just be over? He had been so close. As soon as he solved one problem, something else always came up. Why did Josef need to talk to Ginny? Why did Ron have to become a guard just to get bloody tickets to a few Quidditch matches. Harry could have bought an entire section for him. Of course, Ron and Ginny were just doing what they had been told.

"This is all Luna's fault," Harry growled. "She knew— She was supposed to be here twenty minutes ago!"

Hermione's head jerked up and her eyes widened in a fresh look of horror. "What if Luna would have shown up while we were—" she whispered. Her face paled and she looked as if she was about to be violently ill. "What if Fred and George wouldn't have—"

"Well they did, thank Merlin," replied Harry. "Let's worry about that first one right now. Luna could show up at any second. It'll hardly be any better if she walks in and sees us like this. And now might be a good time to mention the fact that I have no idea how long Fred and George will wait for us."

With more speed than he expected, Hermione climbed to her feet and pulled her wand out of some hidden pocket in what was left of her robes. She flicked her wand twice, locking both doors to the room. Harry flinched as she turned her wand on him, but with a few quick loops, he felt his shirt mend itself and pull itself closed as fresh buttons appeared.

"I trust you can handle your robes," she said as she set her wand down on the work table. "Make sure you do a good job, too. You've got a lot of people to meet tonight, and you don't want to have to explain why your robes were torn open."

Harry pulled off his robes and began walking toward the table. Before he'd taken more than a few steps, Hermione held her hand out to stop him. She had already pulled her arm out of her sleeves and was beginning to pull down the material covering her chest. With one arm across her body, she used the other to point at the other side of the room. "You can work over there," she said sharply.

Harry went to work on his robes, carefully lining up the two sides and casting a simple Mending Charm. It was slow, but the results were much more difficult to see than using a much faster Repairing Charm. He finished up with the last few inches of ripped fabric and held them up to inspect his work. It wasn't perfect, but you'd have to be mental to see it and assume it had been torn. He quickly slipped his arms into them and fastened the buttons. He turned around to make sure Hermione approved, but found her standing in nothing more than her underwear as she leaned over the work table and continued fixing her robes.

It didn't appear that she knew he had finished. After a few seconds, she slammed her wand down on the table. "I'm going to be honest with you, Harry," she said in a strained voice. "I've got much more pressing things on my mind right now, but if you think that anything which might have happened in the last ten minutes has made me more comfortable with you seeing me in my knickers, you're going to be _very_ disappointed."

Taking the hint, Harry turned around quickly. Behind him, he heard Hermione continue muttering spells, punctuated by the rustle of fabric as she shifted the position of the dress to mend another tear. After a couple of tense minutes, he heard a distinctly different sound. It was the sound of fabric slipping over skin. Hermione was done. He waited a moment, then cautiously turned around to find her frowning at him as she pulled her arms through the long, fitted sleeves.

Her demeanor had changed dramatically in the last few minutes. The woman who had been sobbing in despair had quickly become the conflicted witch now standing in front of him. Her posture was tense and threatening, but her eyes were still filled with fear and sadness. She fixed him with a baleful stare.

"When Luna gets here, we're going to tell her to stay away from the Brotherhood or Romania or whatever other stupid thing she might decide would make a good story to be killed over. If you even think of mentioning anything about... about what just happened— well, I won't kill you, but I'll see that your family tree ends with you."

"Are you _insane_?" Harry hissed. "You think I want everyone to know about this? If I could have my wish, I'd wake up and this would all be some horrible nightmare."

"If you think it's bad now, you can't imagine how bad it would be if anyone finds out about it," she said, walking towards him. "We're not going to say a _word_ about it. I'm not going to let this destroy my life, Harry."

"Well, we can't hide it from everyone. What are we supposed to tell Ron and Ginny?" Harry asked. "I suppose honesty is the best policy, but—"

"No," Hermione replied, jabbing her finger into his chest. "Honesty would work fine if you had broken Ron's broom in some bizarre kitchen accident, but not... this," she said. "No, this demands a policy of bribery and blackmail, and if neither of those work, outright lies."

"You're just going to forget that we, er—"

"No, Harry," she hissed, "There's nothing to forget because it _never happened_. Do you understand? _That_—" Hermione said pointing back toward the chair "—wasn't me, and I'm bloody well sure it wasn't you. Whoever those two were, they don't exist anymore. _Nothing happened._ I don't want to know why nothing happened, and I don't want to talk about why nothing happened. It's _nothing_."

"What about Fred and George?" he asked, suddenly feeling slightly threatened by Hermione.

She sighed and her expression softened a little, though her eyes were still giving him an icy glare. "I imagine they're still standing in the shop, obeying a command that contradicted every ounce of their wills. A curious occurrence, don't you think?" She pulled her wand from her pocket and walked past Harry to the door leading to the shop. "Fortunately, they are a disaster we can still prevent."

"Where are you going?"

"To Obliviate Fred and George," she replied as if it had been the stupidest question in the world.

"What? You can't—"

"Do you want to?" snapped Hermione. "Because someone has to. There's nothing we could do to stop them from telling Ron and Ginny. Is that what you want? If so, then we best start ripping off each others robes again so we can get photos this time. The reality of it would be only half as bad as what they would imagine it to be.

"Is that what you want? Well, is it?" she asked. "If that's what you want, then tell me now and I'll kill Ginny tonight and save her a lot of pain and suffering."

Hermione didn't wait for him to answer. She stepped through the door and slammed it behind her. For some time Harry simply stood in silence. He knew what Hermione was doing. Some part of his mind told him that it was wrong. The Ministry had rules against Obliviating wizards. And yet, he didn't move from where he stood. He simply waited. He had been so close to a normal life, and now this happened. Why was this happening to him? Would it stop? Was he cursed?

The door opened behind him, but he didn't turn around. He already knew it was Hermione. He didn't understand how, but he did. She walked around him and stood facing him. Her eyes were closed and her fingers were pressed against her temples. She let out an exhausted sigh.

"Does your head hurt?" she asked in a soft voice. "Mine feels like it's splitting in two." Harry didn't answer her. His head was throbbing, but it didn't really hurt. He hardly thought she wanted to hear that.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she apologized. "I— I didn't mean to—" She took another deep breath and looked at him again. "I was very upset," she told him, "but I don't regret what I said —or what I did. This is serious Harry. If anyone finds out—"

"I know," he whispered.

She frowned and nodded. "There's something else. I don't mean to sound like I don't trust you, but I need to know the truth. No matter what you answer, I promise I won't abandon you. Will you answer one question for me?"

Harry nodded.

"Did you have any part in the attacks at Hogwarts?"

"No," he answered immediately, then paused as he looked into her eyes. They were completely brown now.

"How can you be certain?"

Harry felt a chill run down his spine and he looked at the wooden chair across the room. "I—"

His attempt to answer was interrupted by sharp knocking at the door. Hermione glared at him and quickly walked to the door leading to the back alley. After pulling her wand, she reached for the handle and opened the door just enough to see who had knocked. A moment later, she stepped back and opened the door later.

"You're late," said Hermione.

"Am I?" Luna asked vacantly as she glided into the room. "After she left, I couldn't remember whether Ginny told me to be here an hour before the ceremony or just half an hour." There was a pause in her voice and her face brightened as she looked around the room. "Oh, hello Harry," she said with a smile. "I figured it was better to arrive late than arrive early and interrupt anything."

"Oh, we wouldn't have minded," Hermione said with a hollow smile. "Really."

Luna shrugged and sat down in the wooden chair, making Harry and Hermione wince. "Oh well, no harm done. What did you want to tell me about? Do you know something about the mind control?"

Harry nearly choked. "Ginny was called away," he said dismissively. "What is this about mind control? "

"The mind control conspiracy," Luna replied. "You know, the Ministry's plan to control everyone's minds. The Romanians are helping them, but you already knew that," she said with a short laugh. "I haven't figured out just how they're doing it, but I'm pretty certain it has something to do with either plants or cursed shoelaces. Just to be safe, I've stopped using shoelaces and tie all my shoes with ivy stems. I'm pretty sure it's actually the plants, but when I mentioned it to Neville, he said I was just being paranoid." She frowned and gave Harry a sad look. "I think they might have gotten to him already."

"That's... really interesting Luna," Harry replied wearily. "We wanted to talk to you about the Romanians."

"Oh, of course!" she said excitedly. "Ginny must have told you all sorts of things. It's too bad she couldn't be here. I really wanted to ask her about their campaign to force the goblins out of the potion-making business."

"What are you—" Harry began to question, but he stopped himself. "Look, about the Romanians, they're not trying to control anyone's minds. They're not even helping the Ministry—"

"They're not?" remarked Luna.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Well they are, but not in any way like that. They—" He let out a frustrated sigh as he looked at the clock. Considering the amount of time it would take for her to get back to the plaza, he probably had less than ten minutes to convince her not to write about the Brotherhood.

"Look, they're helping me."

Luna gave him a confused look. "Why do you want to control people's minds?"

"I don't!" Harry replied, perhaps a little more forcefully than he needed to. "No one is... trying to control anyone," he said a little more evenly." Speaking as quickly as he could, he began explaining a brief history of the interactions between the Ministry and the Brotherhood.

"That's brilliant, Harry," Luna exclaimed. "That's exactly what I've been trying to find! I can't wait for next month. This will be—"

"No!" Harry interrupted. "That's just it, you can't write about this." A blank expression passed across Luna's face as she tried to understand why. "These wizards, the Brotherhood, they— They're very secretive. Very few wizards know they exist. People who start talking about them tend to disappear... forever."

"So you don't want me to write about them?" she asked. "What about the Department of Mysteries? Can I still write about their plans to create an army of dead house elves?"

Harry swallowed a question he knew he didn't want answered and simply nodded. "Yes, feel free to write about that."

This seemed to make Luna happy and she smiled brightly. "It's nice to have you around again," she commented. "Ginny's been so much happier lately." She looked up at the clock on the wall. "Oh, I need to go before someone takes my place. I found the perfect place. I'll be able to see the Minister, but the Confundus Charm won't hit me when they unveil whatever is under the shroud."

"That sounds... brilliant," Harry replied lamely.

"Oh, and Harry," Luna called out from the door. "That lipstick doesn't seem quite right for you. You'd look much better with something a little brighter." Harry immediately wiped the back of his hand across his mouth leaving a faint reddish smudge. As if to punctuate the horror paralyzing him, she added brightly: "That might look really good on Hermione, though."

Hermione spun around quickly, turning her back on Luna and glaring at Harry. They both looked at the clock. There was no more time. If they Obliviated her, there would be no time to tell her about the Brotherhood again.

Luna quietly opened the door and waved to them. "I guess I'll see you soon. Just remember to duck if you see a bright orange flash."

The door closed, leaving Harry and Hermione staring at each other, unable to decide if they should be relieved or terribly worried. Whichever it was, they wouldn't have much time to do it. It was nearly seven o' clock.

"I don't think she'll ever guess that we—" Hermione started to say. "It was just a comment. She'll forget about it in a week."

Harry was trying to convince himself of the very same thing. He paced about the room, checking the time every few seconds. Only minutes before Harrington said it would activate, Harry retrieved the Portkey from its wooden box. Once he saw it, he regretted not opening the box earlier. It was a small pin, barely larger than a button. It made perfect sense. It would ruin the spectacle for Harry to appear with something noticeable like an old boot or some dusty book in his hand. Something small would never be noticed.

There was no time to complain. Harry tried to find some way of doing it, but there was no way both of them could touch it without risking the chance that it would slip away just before it activated.

Harry stared into Hermione's eyes. "_Nothing happened_," he announced. "It wasn't us." Then he deliberately placed the small pin in the palm of his hand and turned away to stare at the clock. He felt a trembling hand wrap around his, holding the pin firmly between them. It wasn't the first time he'd held her hand, but never before had it triggered so much guilt and loathing inside him.

* * *

"Good evening, Miss Weasley," the Auror greeted her after she Apparated to Diagon Alley for the second time that evening. "It's good to see you again." 

She nodded but said nothing. There was no comfort in the idea that the Aurors were watching her. She quickly slipped through the crowd, leaving the Aurors behind her. The plaza where the stage had been built wasn't far away, but Josef had kept her at the Ministry until the very last minute. He had quite a bit of information, but in the end, he admitted that his main purpose had been making sure that Harry was not tempted to go back on his deal with Scrimgeour.

Now she was left with very little time to make it to the stage in time for the start of the ceremony. It was obvious what Scrimgeour had planned, and she had no doubt that it would work just as he planned. Her only worry was that Harry would do something to try and ruin it. If she was there, she was confident that she could prevent that.

After more than a few dirty looks and a number of rushed explanations, Ginny had made her way to the front of the crowd. Ahead of her and somewhat off to the left, she saw Luna Lovegood huddling next to the stage. She noticed Ginny and flashed a smile as she waved energetically. Ginny took that as a good sign. If things had gone poorly with Harry, she probably wouldn't be nearly that happy.

Her attention was drawn away by a growing murmur running through the crowd. A number of Aurors were walking toward the stage, and following them was Rufus Scrimgeour. The Minister climbed onto the stage and shot a plume of golden sparks into the air. "Attention!" he cried. "If I can have your attention. I hope you will all forgive me, but I am terribly excited and I do not wish to wait any longer. I'm certain no one will mind if we all begin a minute early."

The Minister cleared his throat and adjusted his robes. "I have invited you all here to take part in the celebration and commemoration of the struggle we endured for so many years. I have commissioned a number of wizards from across all of Britain to construct the marvelous monument which stands behind me. I have done this to honor our fight against the evils of dark magic and those who would crush you under their wills. There are many wondrous things to see and do tonight, so let the festivities begin!" He turned around and slashed his wand at the covered shape behind him.

With a burst of yellow sparks, the shroud exploded, revealing a tall white obelisk towering behind the Minister. The crowd gasped in surprise. "On this monument," the Minister announced, "are the names of every witch and wizard killed during Voldemort's reign of terror!" A murmur had run through the crowd at the pronouncement of Voldemort's name, but it was quickly overtaken by waves of applause.

"Let this monument be a lasting reminder to their bravery and their sacrifice! A year is long enough to grieve. It is time to remember and to be proud!" he shouted above the crowd. "I also want to personally thank the families of those commemorated behind me. Their sacrifice is no less, and you not only have the condolences of the Ministry of Magic, but my gratitude for your strength and loyalty."

Another swell of cheers drowned out any of Scrimgeour's attempts to speak, and Ginny couldn't help but glare at him with disgust. He truly had turned this into quite a display. As the cheers died down, she found him looking down at her with a triumphant smile. She scowled in response.

"But there's one name which is not on this monument," he cried out above the last of the applause, "though it is no less deserving than any that are. His friends never gave up on him, and neither did I. Now, I must ask for everyone's attention. There is someone I wish to introduce—"

Right on cue, Harry and Hermione popped into existence in the center of the stage.

* * *

As he felt his feet strike the stage, he forced himself to let go of Hermione's hand. After a moment of unsteadiness he found his balance and stared out at the sea of wizards around him. They seemed to be frozen in shock for the time being. As they stared back at him, Scrimgeour began talking again. 

"I want you all to welcome... Harry Potter!" he shouted as he swept his arm toward Harry. There was a deafening roar of cheers and shouts. Scrimgeour raised his wand to his throat so he could shout over the noise of the crowd. "I assure you, I am as happy as any of you, but please, I cannot take all the credit for bringing him back. I must thank all of his friends. First of course is Miss Hermione Granger. Don't be shy Miss Granger! You've earned a little gratitude." With a little more urging, he convinced Hermione to walk back over to stand next to Harry. They shared a tense look, then looked away almost immediately.

"I'm afraid to say that Ronald Weasley is currently in Belgium, keeping the Quidditch World Cup Tournament safe for wizards across Europe, his sister, however, has taken time from her busy schedule to celebrate with us." The Minister stepped forward and reached a hand toward Ginny.

"Come on up, Miss Weasley," he told her. "Miss Weasley's help was invaluable to us, though I do believe that she had more personal motives for wanting to bring Harry back." The crowd cheered and whistled as she reluctantly allowed the Minister to help her up onto the stage.

Scrimgeour led her over to Harry and Hermione and pressed the three of them together as the crowd continued to celebrate. Flashes from a dozen cameras started lighting up the stage. Scrimgeour stood behind Harry and leaned forward slightly. "It's nice to see the two of you together. Now would be an excellent time for a kiss, I believe."

Harry felt a stab of guilt at the thought. "I'd really rather not," he replied. He'd done quite enough kissing for one day.

"You help me, and I'll help you," the Minister said as he smiled and waved for the cameras. "That's how these things work, Harry. I can still make things complicated for you, but I never imagined I'd have to order you to kiss her. You can't tell me it's the first time, so just stop fighting and kiss her."

Harry looked over at Ginny and found her staring back at him. His chest felt tight and his stomach was aching. Even standing there and saying nothing felt like a lie. He stared into her eyes and repeated to himself: _Nothing happened. It wasn't us._

Ginny turned to face him, then gave him a nod and a reassuring smile. "Welcome back, Harry," she whispered as her hands reached up to pull his face toward hers.

Harry felt her lips touch his and it took every ounce of his control to keep himself from pushing her away. He was filled with caring and excitement and guilt and pain. Kissing her was torture and he could never tell her why.

_Nothing happened. It wasn't us. It was someone else._

* * *

**Author's Notes**

It's a day late, but that would be everyone's Halloween gift. Hopefully no one is terribly traumatized by this chapter. I swear the story is not going to turn into some sort of Harry/Hermione romance. I hope that's pretty evident just from the chapter. This is the most visible manifestation of a series of odd occurrences including the Aurors turning around while looking for Harry at Hogwarts and the incident at the Ministry with the guard (and his subsequent refusal to blame Harry). If you look back you'll see a number of other times when Harry gets his way when he probably shouldn't. There are reasons for this and you will learn what they are.

So, I hope everyone found the chapter interesting. It really is very important to the rest of the story, and everyone should be happy to hear that this should be the height of the mystery. Answers to all your questions are on the way. They should start coming in chapter 14 and 15, though you're crazy if you think you're going to understand everything by the end of this story (about 24 chapters)

Of course, if you are curious, you can email me and ask me your questions and I'll either answer them, or tell you when or if they'll be answered. Even if I can't (or won't) answer your question, I usually end up giving out a decent number of hints to give you an idea what to expect or make you understand things that have already happened.


	14. The Message and the Messenger

**CHAPTER 14**

**The Message and the Messenger**

* * *

Harry groaned as he rolled out of bed. His whole body felt sore and his head was still pounding from the Firewhiskey. While it was nice to be appreciated by the wizarding world, there were only so many glasses of Firewhiskey he could accept before it stopped being a symbol of appreciation and started turning into a simple attempt at poisoning. 

Ginny hadn't been forced to drink nearly as much as he had, but it was still enough. She hadn't left his side all night, and quite a few wizards felt obligated to buy her bottles of ale while giving Harry the much stronger drinks. She mumbled incoherently and pulled the covers up over her head. He decided to let her sleep. In reality, he wished that he could join her, but his throbbing head made it impossible. Perhaps once he got some tea and some toast he would feel better. He could always fall asleep later. It wasn't as if he had any plans to be seen anytime soon. A few hours of constant attention had been enough for several weeks.

Harry slowly worked his way down the stairs, trying to walk as smoothly as he could. Just as he reached the last few steps, Ron appeared in front of him. Harry instinctively froze.

"Oh, good morning, Harry," he greeted him hesitantly. He scratched his chin and looked down at his feet. "I— Hermione told me," he said softly. "She told me about yesterday —about everything before the ceremony."

"Er... She did?" Harry replied, trying not sound as shocked as he was. "I— I mean, it wasn't—" he began stammering.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Ron interrupted. "Hermione was right. I should have found a way out of that match. I guess I wasn't thinking. I only thought about the ceremony and how you wouldn't care about having me follow you around while everyone congratulated you. I didn't even think about all the time before it started. I know you and Hermione don't really have much fun together. I could have at least kept your mind off the ceremony until it started."

"Oh," gasped Harry, "yeah, of course. Wait— I mean, no. It's really alright. I was mostly just annoyed. It wasn't as bad as I made it out to be." Harry forced himself to smile. "I am glad we chose Fred and George's shop, though. Staying in a room at the _Leaky Cauldron_ would have been quite a bit worse."

"Well it couldn't have been worse than the Quidditch match I was at," Ron groaned. "I swear, I've never seen a crowd get so excited over a pair of teams with so little talent. By the end they were cheering for anything that might end the match faster. A couple of the other blokes and I had even considered attacking some of the spectators just to give them an excuse to send everyone home."

"Who ended up winning?" Harry asked casually.

"Albania," Ron answered with a nod. "A few of the spectators spotted the Snitch and shouted for the Seekers." Ron let out a short laugh. "The referee didn't even care. I think he was only annoyed that he didn't spot it sooner. Anyway, the Turkish Seeker tried to get to it, but he had to keep correcting his path. It won't matter," he added. "They'll get clobbered by Germany in their next match."

Harry smiled and nodded in agreement. In truth, he wasn't listening all that closely. He was thinking about everything Ron had said before he started talking about the match. He waved as Ron turned and continued up the stairs. He'd told Harry that he needed to go to the Ministry to report on the match. Harry turned and walked in the opposite direction.

After giving the door a soft shove, he walked into the kitchen and found Hermione crouching down in front of the fireplace. Behind him, the door rattled as it shut, triggering a panicked shriek from Hermione as she turned to stand defensively in front of the fire.

"Oh, it's you," she said coldly. Behind her, grey smoke began filling the fireplace.

"What are you doing?" he asked her. "Did you throw something into the fire?"

Hermione's face became an expressionless mask. "If you don't want to see it, then just walk away, Harry," she replied. Harry walked closer to try and figure out just what she was doing. Hanging out onto the hearth, he saw a single sleeve of rippling, blue satin. Hermione was burning her dress robes.

"They were... ruined," she explained. "I tried to fix them but— I'll never wear them again, so I just figured..."

"You didn't tell Ron," he said. "Why not?"

"Because there's _nothing_ to tell," she answered sharply. "I don't even know what you're talking about, Harry."

"You lied to him."

Hermione's lips tightened. "Oh, and you haven't been doing any of that, have you?" she snapped. "What happed to that guard at the Ministry, Harry? Even the _Quibbler_ says that you didn't touch him, yet he didn't follow his orders. What did you do? How hard did he fight you?"

"I didn't do anything," he growled back at her. "Why don't you believe me?"

"Oh, let me think," Hermione replied mockingly. "Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I can't remember anything that happened yesterday from the moment I walked into the back room until Fred and George found us. All I remember is what we were doing when they stopped us. Part of me is desperate to know what happened before that, but I'd be satisfied if you could just tell me _how_ it happened."

"You think I know? Believe me, if I could, I'd forget it all too. I remember doing everything, but it was like... like it was a dream or some vision. I could see it all, but I couldn't stop it."

"Is that supposed to make me feel _better_?" asked Hermione. Before Harry could answer, she turned and grabbed a nearby poker. She curled the rest of the robes on top of the fire, letting them crinkle and be consumed by the flames.

"Listen to me, Harry," she said in a tense whisper, "I was serious. I really don't want to ever talk or think about what happened, but if you can't find some explanation for what happened, I can't spend time around you. I can't risk having... _that_ happen again. You do understand that?" Harry nodded silently.

"We need to figure out what is going on," she whispered. "What happened... that wasn't normal. It's dark magic, Harry. I can believe that you weren't in control of your actions, but you can't tell me that you don't know anything about what happened."

"I don't—"

"Don't lie to me, Harry. Why didn't you tell us about the guard right away?" she asked. A moment later, she answered for him. "You _knew_ something strange happened to him and you didn't want to admit it."

"It wasn't like that," he tried to tell her. "I wasn't trying to hide anything. I just forgot—"

"You _forgot_?" she replied loud enough for her voice to echo faintly through the kitchen. "How convenient for—" She paused and took a deep breath. "How many other things do you suppose you've forgotten, Harry? What exactly _do_ you remember about the attacks at Hogwarts? The night that Marius Lipton was attacked, you had a dream you've never told us about. You didn't perhaps dream about him being attacked, did you?"

"They were just dreams," he insisted. "I didn't—"

"Did you have another dream?"

Harry turned to find Ginny staring at him from the doorway. Her tousled hair only partially blocked the worried expression on her face. "Was it... was it like the others? Is something happening?"

"No," Harry replied quickly. "I haven't had any more dreams." From the corner of his eye he caught Hermione glaring at him. "Hermione and I were just talking about them. There's nothing to worry about."

"Good," said Ginny. "I don't think I'd be able to do much about it if there was. My head feels like it's about to split open. I think some tea and a Pepperup Potion might be a good idea." She walked across the kitchen but stopped when she saw the fireplace.

"Hermione! Your robes!" she cried. "What are you doing?"

"Getting rid of them," Hermione answered stiffly as she pulled her wand out of her pocket and aimed it at the fire. With a quick swish of her wand, the flames roared higher. "Someone spilled their drink all over them when I helped the two of you get home last night."

"We could have fixed them," Ginny argued as she gave the blackening robes a piteous look. "It couldn't have been that bad."

"There was nothing that could be done," explained Hermione. "They never would have been the same," she added with a sharp glare at Harry.

"Alright," Ginny sighed disappointedly. "It's too bad, though. You looked really good in them."

Hermione turned to stare at the flames. "Yeah... I know." As Ginny walked away, Harry heard her whispering to herself: "Maybe too good."

* * *

For the rest of that day and all of the following Sunday, Harry and Hermione did their best to avoid spending any length of time in each other's presence. At first it wasn't even a conscious decision. Harry simply found that anytime the two of them were in the same room he felt uncomfortable. When an opportunity to leave presented itself, he usually took it. 

Hermione was doing the same thing. By the end of Saturday, it had progressed far enough that she made up an excuse to eat dinner early before slipping out of the house for the rest of the night. She'd returned the next day, but spent even less time around Harry. Early that evening, Harry and Ginny walked through the kitchen on their way to the parlor and found Hermione making an early meal for herself.

"Are you leaving again tonight?" Ginny asked.

Hermione looked up at her, but turned away when she saw Harry. "Er, yeah," she said. "I've been doing some research at a number of libraries, and it's easier to get things done at night. Less crowded, you know," she explained.

"That makes sense," Ginny commented, "but it doesn't really explain why you've been avoiding Harry and me all weekend. You didn't have any problem spending all of Friday with him, but—" Ginny paused and looked from Harry to Hermione. "Hold on. Did something happen after I left on Friday?" she asked suspiciously.

Hermione froze and threw an accusatory glare at Harry. "No," she said stiffly. Her eyes stared imperiously at Harry. "Nothing happened."

This did nothing to cure Ginny's suspicion. "If you two had a fight, you should just work it out. We're going to have to spend a lot of time around each other. I'll leave for a bit and the two of you can work it—"

"No," Harry blurted out. "No, that's alright. We just— er—"

"It wasn't a fight," Hermione insisted. "We just spent a little too much time around each other. It's nothing to worry about."

This made Ginny a little happier and she seemed glad that she had been around to help the two of them work out some sort of agreement. Of course, it hadn't changed anything at all. Hermione still left early and Harry avoided noticing her return.

When Harry awoke the next day, Hermione had already left. Ginny seemed a little annoyed. Harry watched with bleary eyes while Ginny complained about Hermione disappearing before she'd had a chance to ask her where she was going. As she rummaged through a large trunk looking for a heavier cloak, she told Harry that she was going to Ireland that day, but she had planned to stop off at Hogwarts first. Hermione had agreed to go with her earlier, but that no longer seemed to be the case.

There was little he could do, and to be honest, he wasn't completely comfortable with the idea of Ginny and Hermione spending so much time around each other. He trusted Hermione, even though it made him feel guilty in this case. The worry was Ginny. She was clever and observant, and the thought of her figuring out what had happened was terrifying to him.

He understood Hermione's reaction now. He didn't want to talk about it or tell anyone what had happened. He just wanted to forget it ever happened. Even though he knew that it was important and it might be the key to figuring out what had caused the attacks at Hogwarts, it simply wasn't worth the risk. If Ginny found out, there was no telling what she might do. If her safety was as important at Josef had claimed, then by not telling her this secret, he was working to keep her safe.

At least, that's what he kept telling himself.

He spent all of Monday alone. Ginny was at the Ministry all day and Ron had left to spend the day at the pitch in Germany where he would be working for the next match. Harry didn't even know where Hermione was. He hadn't seen her for almost an entire day. To be honest, it didn't bother him. His only worry was that he didn't know when she would return.

When he heard the door open with a creak, he immediately assumed the worst. He quickly walked through the kitchen on his way to the front door. He passed the stairs, expecting to see Hermione but finding Ginny instead. She was calmly taking off the light cloak she had been wearing to protect her from the chilly autumn wind, but stopped when she saw him.

"Oh," he said abruptly, "it's you."

Ginny smiled and gave him an odd look. "Yes, it is," she answered slowly. "Is that a problem?"

"Oh, no. It's just— Well, I thought you were Hermione."

Ginny's head cocked to one side slightly. "Is that why you were in such a hurry? Why did you want to talk to Hermione?"

Harry tried not to look at her. It would be easier if he didn't have to look into her eyes. "Oh, no reason, really," he answered. "I just haven't seen her around much."

"Neither have I," she said as she tossed her cloak over the banister instead of hanging it in the wardrobe with the others. "She's been acting strangely the past few days. You've noticed, too." She frowned and looked at him. "I think something's wrong with Hermione, Harry."

"I'm sure it's nothing," Harry replied quickly. "She's been having a rough time at her job. Maybe she just needs a bit of a holiday."

Ginny's eyes narrowed in confusion. "I don't think that's it," she said. "She was strung pretty tight earlier this week, but it was nothing like the last few days. She didn't even work at all over the weekend. It's something else," she insisted. "Something happened the day of the ceremony. Whatever it was, it's really affecting her. Do you remember anything out of the ordinary?"

Harry forced himself to stare at the ceiling. After a moment to wrestle with his conscience, he heard himself repeating the answer Hermione had repeatedly told him to use: "No. I don't remember anything."

This didn't seem to please Ginny. "I tried asking her, but she just ignored me. She hasn't said anything to you?" Harry simply shook his head. "I'm worried about her, Harry," Ginny continued. "Whatever happened to her, she's keeping it a secret. It's not healthy."

"Maybe she can't tell us because it's some old Ministry secret?" he suggested, though he knew it was completely false.

Ginny smile and stepped closer to him. "That never stopped you before," she said suggestively.

"I'll see what I can find out," Harry told her, hoping it would satisfy her.

"Thank you," she said softly. "There is something else," she announced. "As I was leaving, Harrington pulled me into his office. He wants to speak to both of us tomorrow morning,"

"Did he say why?" Harry asked.

"No. He only said that it was very important. I know how much you dislike the Ministry, but after everything he's done to help us, I think we owe it to him to at least show up."

Harry still remembered how Mr. Harrington had helped them escape the Ministry after they had recovered Voldemort's wand. Of course, that had only been the most memorable instance. Harry wondered how many others he hadn't even had the time to learn about yet.

"Alright," he greed. "When do we have to be there?"

"Well, you need to be there at ten o' clock," she replied in a relaxed voice. "I'll be leaving before then, but I'll be waiting for you."

* * *

Harry Apparated into the Ministry early the next morning. He'd been hoping to make as little of a scene as possible, but he didn't really expect to be successful. As he'd expected, only seconds after he'd arrived, he heard the first whispers as a pair of witches spun around to stare at him in awe. He tried to ignore them, but the whispers multiplied as he began walking toward the guard at the security desk. 

_Is that really him?_

_I thought he was taller..._

_Why is he here? Are we in danger? Why hasn't the Ministry alerted anyone?_

When Harry reached the security desk, he took a good look at the wizard sitting behind it. This wasn't a seasoned Auror like the last guard. The new guard was young, though he looked more confident and alert than most of the young employees about the Ministry. He was probably one of the many wizards who were turned away from Auror training.

"Visitor for Ferdinand Harrington," announced Harry as he reached for his wand.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter," the guard greeted him mechanically. "It's an honor to meet you, but I'm afraid your visitor will have to appear in person."

Harry stopped abruptly and stared at the young man. "No, _I'm_ the visitor," he corrected the guard. "I'm here to see Ferdinand Harrington."

"All due respect, sir, but it doesn't really matter who you're here to see."

Harry glared at the guard. "I didn't just decide to pop in for a visit, I was told to come here," he whispered sharply. He couldn't believe that he'd gone through Scrimgeour's little charade and still had to deal with this sort of abuse from the Ministry. "If you won't let me pass, then send one of your memos to Harrington and tell him to come down to me. Or don't—" he snapped, "—and I'll just leave and never return."

"No, sir—" the guard replied quickly. "You don't understand. You don't need to announce yourself or your business to me. You can just walk in."

"What?" Harry exclaimed. "Since when—"

"Just yesterday, it seems," the guard replied. He flipped through a small stack of parchment and efficiently pulled one out from near the top. He stared at the writing for a few seconds, then stabbed at it with this finger. "Here it is: _Harry Potter_. Says you're allowed standard privileges, and that means you can enter and leave whenever you like."

"I thought only Ministry employees could do that."

"Well, yeah, of course they can," the guard said with a smile, "but there are plenty of others who don't have to check in."

"Like who?" Harry asked, wondering where he might fit in.

"Oh, let's see," the guard said as he sat back. "A good number of foreign officials —just the most common ones, though— a few of the witches and wizards from the _Daily Prophet_, a small group of wizards from eastern Europe, and, er— the girls from Callista's Confidential Companions—" He sat up a little straighter and looked down at his desk. "—but I can't really say anything more about them." A pair of old witches passed by and as soon as they disappeared through the gate, the wizard leaned forward and spoke quickly in hushed tones.

"I actually can say quite a bit more about them," he hissed, "for a price."

"I'm more interested in the wizards from eastern Europe."

"Oh, of course," the guard said with a frown. "The blokes were saying that you and Miss Weasley used to get on quite well. I don't suppose there's much point in paying for one of Callista's girls when you're close with someone like Ginny. I can tell you that there were more than a few young wizards mourning your return. Not that they wish you were dead, of course," he explained. "Just, well, you know. They were hoping they'd get to have a go—"

"The wizards," Harry growled, not at all pleased with where the young man's ramblings were headed.

"Oh, right, them," he chuckled nervously. "They're just frequent visitors. I think they're from Bulgaria or Russia or some place over there."

"Perhaps Romania?" Harry suggested.

The guard shrugged. "Yeah, that could be it. They all sound the same, you know? Yeah, they started coming in here a year ago, always looking serious and babbling in that incoherent language of theirs. After a while, the Ministry decided to just let them come and go as they please. It was easier than trying to understand them." He smiled at Harry and nodded toward the parchment on his desk. "I'd guess it's about the same with you. Er, wait— Not the babbling, the visiting. They probably guessed you'd be coming here all the time, and honestly, who'd tell Harry Potter he couldn't see the Minister?"

"You'd be surprised," mumbled Harry. "These Romanians, where are they allowed to go? Do they ever go up to the Minister's office?"

"Well, I, er— I'm not supposed to really share that, but... It can't really hurt can it?" he asked as if there was a chance that Harry might disagree. The guard shuffled through another stack of parchment for a moment before pulling out another sheet. "Oh, hold on," he said as his eyes scanned the scribbled writing. "That's strange. They're restricted to the Department of Mysteries. No one else is allowed down there, but they can't even go up to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"What about Josef Kantos?" Harry asked. "Is he on that list?"

The guard shook his head seriously. "Oh no, Mr. Kantos is on a separate list entirely." He pulled out another roll of parchment and quickly opened it. "He's right here at the top of this one," the guard said. Harry looked down and saw Josef's name. Directly over it was a line of bold text: _No Admittance Without Escort and Confirmed Appointment._

"He was here on Friday," said Harry. "Can you check to see who he said he was here to see?"

This made the guard a little more uneasy, but after a quick check to see that he wasn't being watched, he pulled open a small cabinet and pulled out a narrow-spined book. After leafing through the pages for a moment, he stopped at one particular page.

"Here we are," the guard whispered. "Yeah, he came in Friday night, just before seven o' clock, and he was here to see—" He froze for a second, then leaned closer to the book to take a closer look. When he looked up, he had an uncertain expression on his face. "He was here to see Miss Weasley."

"Who escorted him?"

"She did," he answered weakly. "She's not one of the approved escorts, but there's a note here saying that she claimed some sort of diplomatic privilege."

"Does it say when he left?

"Just before eight o' clock," the guard whispered. "They left together." As soon as he finished talking, he quickly shut the book and slipped it under a stack of parchment.

"Good morning and welcome to the Ministry of Magic," he called out in a loud voice. Over his shoulder, Harry spotted a pair of wizards walking up behind him. "Is there something I can help you with?" the guard asked them.

"We need to speak with someone at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures," announced one of them, a tall wizard with a severe expression. Standing next to him was a shorter witch with one arm bandaged and in a sling. "We found a pack of grindylows living at the bottom of a well. Something must be done about them. Muggle children play near that well."

"Yes, yes of course," agreed the guard. "You'll just need to sign in and I'll need to see your wands for a moment." As the two of them retrieved their wands, the guard turned and nodded to Harry. "Good day, Mr. Potter. It was nice talking to you."

Harry understood without the guard needing to say it. He'd gotten enough information from him for one day. Harry nodded to the guard and walked off toward the lifts.

* * *

"Good morning, Mr. Potter," Carmilla greeted him warmly when he finally arrived at the Department of International Magical Cooperation. "You're earlier than I expected. I'm afraid Ferdinand is busy at the moment. You don't mind waiting, do you? I'm terribly sorry." 

"No," Harry replied, though he wasn't being completely honest. "I'll just wait with Ginny, then. Is it alright if I just go back to her office?"

"Oh, no, sorry—" Carmilla responded, but quickly stopped herself. "What I meant is that Ginny isn't here." She gave him an apologetic look. "I sent her out to speak to some wizards who were complaining about their seats at the first round of World Cup matches. You can still wait in her office, though. I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

"Do you know when she'll be back?" he asked, a little confused about her absence.

"No, I don't," Carmilla apologized. "I'll tell Mr. Harrington to find you when he's ready. He'll explain everything, I promise."

Harry shrugged and casually made his way toward Ginny's office. He passed Mr. Harrington's office and heard the faint murmurs of people talking on the other side. As he continued on, he noticed something that made him feel strangely comfortable. He wasn't the only wizard in the offices, and he had passed by a number of them as he made his way through the corridors. A few of them had smiled and nodded at him, but on the whole they weren't reacting with any of the shock or surprise that he'd expected. Instead, they seemed to be treating him as if he was one of them. It felt... comfortable. Part of him wondered if that in itself should make him uncomfortable.

He was happy to reach Ginny's office. It wasn't as easy to return to the rest of the world as he thought it would be. He truly wanted to, but after over a year of hiding and running and sneaking about, it felt strange to simply walk down a corridor without a disguise. He felt exposed and vulnerable, and yet, no one seemed to care.

He sat down in Ginny's chair and looked around her office for something to occupy his time. It hadn't changed much since the last time he was there. There was more parchment scattered about her desk and a few more odd objects she'd brought from the Burrow to make it feel like home, but for the most part it still looked new and empty. Remembering his last visit, he spun around in the chair and looked at the bookshelf behind him. He scanned the spines of the books looking for one book in particular.

"She's got odd taste in literature, don't you think?"

Harry nearly jumped out of his chair as he turned back toward the door. Evelyn Sibley was standing in the doorway and watching him. As he stood up, her expression changed to one of surprise.

"Oh, it's— It's you," she stammered. "I— I thought it was Josef, again, but I suppose that doesn't make much sense. He never really comes here during the day anymore," she explained. Hesitantly, she walked into the office and held out her hand. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Potter."

He reached out and shook her hand. Her skin was soft and her hand felt delicate, but her grip was firm and confident. Unlike so many of the witches he'd met the night of the ceremony, Evelyn wasn't intimidated by him. "You can call me Harry," he told her.

"Thank you, Harry," she said with a smile. "My name is Evelyn. I have an office just down the corridor," she said, pointing back over her shoulder. Of course, he remembered who she was and just where her office was, but he didn't think it was really the sort of thing one should admit to someone the very first time they thought they were meeting you.

He wondered how well he'd been able to impersonate Josef. Would she begin to recognize him if he talked to her? What would be the worst that could happen if she did? He'd recognized her easily, though he was trying not to make it seem so. Her hair was slightly different. Instead of hanging down in a single smooth layer, it was tied back with scarlet and gold ribbons. She seemed a little less pale, though it might have simply been because of the extra light in the room at the moment. Her eyes were still dark, however, and Harry tried not to stare at them too much.

"So what brings you here?" she asked. "I'm guessing Carmilla told you that Ginny had to leave for yet another petty dispute."

"Yeah, I heard," he told her. "I'm not actually here to speak with her, though. I got a message that Mr. Harrington wished to speak with me."

"Oh, really?" she asked. "Well, I'm sure it's nothing bad. He's been working quite a bit with the French Ministry to work out with World Cup business. Maybe he's hoping you'd be able to make an appearance at the next round of matches."

"Maybe," Harry groaned. The idea didn't sound all that appealing to him. While he didn't mind the idea of catching a few matches, he knew it would mean that he'd be forced to spend hours being watched and whispered about.

Evelyn cast a quick glance over her shoulder, then stepped a little closer to Harry. "Can I ask you a question?" she whispered.

"Er… I suppose."

"You've met Josef Kantos, haven't you?" she asked. Harry nodded slowly. "Is that his real name? I mean, I don't really think it is. Do you know how long he's had it or what it might have been before then?"

"I... I guess I don't really know," he answered. "I don't think I really thought about it much. Why do you want to know?"

"Maybe it's nothing," she said with a wave of her hand. "It's just— Well, I ran across something strange and I don't know what to make of it." She checked the door one more time before continuing. "He's not Romanian," she told him. "He's Russian. How does a Russian wizard get to be such a high ranking official in the Romanian Ministry?"

"Well, he was raised in Romania," offered Harry.

"Yes, I suppose you're right," she said with a nod, "but what about all the others? The Romanian Ministry has quite a few wizards from foreign countries, many of whom didn't even grow up in Romania. Josef was the captain of their guard. It's strange enough that they would put a Russian wizard in that position, but I'd never believe they'd replace him with a Greek wizard who's only been in Romania for a little over five years." She looked into Harry's eyes. "Something strange is going on, and I think Josef is at the center of it. Something tells me that the more I learn about him, the more the rest of it will start making sense."

"I doubt it," Harry told her. "Whatever you're looking for, you won't find it by looking at him, and you probably shouldn't even be looking for it in the first place."

Evelyn raised an eyebrow and gave him a smirk. "Oh?" she replied with a laugh. "How parental of you, Harry." She stepped closer to him and put her hand on his shoulder. "I've never been one to blindly follow rules," she whispered. "I've heard rumors that you don't have much respect for them either. How odd that you're standing here and telling me to be careful." She smiled and gave him a curious look. "Some people might think that you were worried about me."

"Maybe I am," he replied. "I've broken my share of rules, but there are some things that even I won't do. Josef likes his privacy. I've only seen him truly angry once, and it happened just after someone asked him about his parents, and—"

"They were killed," she interjected, "probably by dark wizards, but it seems that they themselves were pretty heavily into the dark arts. I'd say it's just as likely that they were killed by dark wizard hunters. Of course, it's impossible to tell. He did an excellent job of destroying all the records and getting rid of witnesses."

"Are you saying that he killed them?"

"He was only six years old," she replied. "I don't think he even had a wand. Still, it's curious, isn't it? No one even remembers what his real name was. I had to show them a picture of him. If his eyes weren't such an uncommon shade of blue, I don't think I'd have ever found anything."

"Maybe it would have been better that way," he commented. He looked around the room, feeling increasingly more uncomfortable. She'd learned more than Josef had ever told anyone. That couldn't be a good thing.

"He was a six year old orphan in Russia," she continued. "Why did a powerful Romanian politician decide to take him in?"

"I don't know," Harry replied, "but I'm sure it has nothing to do with anything that's happening now."

"I don't believe you," she said with a playful smile. "You're just as secretive as he is. If I didn't know better, I'd think you two were friends." When Harry didn't respond, she continued, taking a slightly different approach.

"I've been looking through reports of all the unexplained events across Europe for the last year and one person keeps reappearing: Josef Kantos. I don't know whether danger follows him or whether he brings it with him, but he's _here_ now and Ginevra thinks she can control him. I know she's your friend—"

"—She's more than—" Harry tried to correct her.

"—but you know that she is still naive about the world. This would not be the first time she's been tricked into trusting someone she shouldn't have. Grigore Tarus was not the kind old wizard she thought he was. And of course, there were rumors at Hogwarts about her first year. I believe they said she let herself be charmed by whoever had been attacking the students."

"That was different. That wasn't her fault," Harry argued. "Listen, Ginny only trusts Josef because I do. If Josef is surrounded by danger, it's only because he's so good at hunting it."

"Yes, uncannily good," Evelyn commented. "Don't try and deny it, Harry. There is something mysterious about him. Even if he isn't the cause of any of these attacks, he knows more about them than he's telling anyone —even you. These attacks... they're different. They aren't like anything Voldemort did. They're more... sinister, if that is possible. It's almost as if there is some _message_ behind them."

"I'm afraid I don't know anything about that," he lied.

Evelyn stared at him for a moment. "I think you do," she finally said. "You know exactly what I'm talking about." She looked up at him with a pleading expression, her dark brown eyes wide and glassy. "Something is happening, Harry," she whispered. "It's almost as if I can _feel_ it. At first I thought I was just paranoid, but I'm not, am I? There's a reason behind all of the strange things that have been happening and you're trying to stop it, aren't you?" Her eyes flickered with excitement. "Let me help you."

"There's nothing to do," whispered Harry. "It's practically finished already. The best thing you can do is to forget everything you've learned about Josef Kantos."

"What about Ginevra?" she asked. "Is she going to forget about him, too?"

"She can take care of herself."

"And I can't?" she shot back at him.

"I'm sure you can," he said, trying to placate her. "I simply meant that you're not part of this yet. It will be better for everyone if it stays that way. Ginny doesn't have a choice, but she knows what she's doing."

Evelyn's eyes narrowed as she glared at him. "She's not the witch you think she is, you know," she said in a controlled voice. "She's different. You disappeared and she changed into... something else. How do you know that she's changed back?"

Harry found it hard to answer for a moment. "I trust her," he finally said, though something about what she'd said made him uneasy. How had she changed? "I know the two of you don't get along very well," he said hesitantly, "and she can be stubborn at times. Maybe if you gave her another chance—"

"Oh, I never had any problem with her," Evelyn insisted. "She's the one who doesn't like me. She is intensely jealous. They say that jealousy is often caused by guilt. If she knew I was talking to you, I think she'd nearly explode. I wonder why that is?"

"Oh, I could think of a few explanations," announced another wizard's voice. "I think it would be enough just knowing that you walked into her office without her permission."

Harry turned and found Ferdinand Harrington standing in the doorway with a serious look on his face. "I think it's time you returned to your office, Evelyn. I'll be expecting that report by noon." Evelyn smiled at Harry and nodded politely, before walking past Harrington with a faint scowl on her face. Once she was out of sight, Harrington motioned for Harry to follow him.

"Follow me, Mr. Potter," he said, motioning for Harry to follow. "There is something we need to discuss."

Harry followed silently as they walked back through the corridor all the way back to Harrington's office. When they arrived, he found a slender witch with long dark hair sitting in one of the comfortable looking chairs inside the office.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter," she greeted him warmly. "It's nice to finally meet you. I'm afraid I couldn't make it to your grand entrance. Ferdinand told me that it was completely excessive and embarrassing. Scrimgeour must have been so proud."

Harry reached out a hand to shake the woman's hand. He had already decided that he liked her. "You're Cordelia Reading?" he asked. She nodded silently. "Ginny's told me quite a bit about you," he said. "She tells me that you're honest. I was hoping you would tell me why I'm here."

Harry heard the door to the office close behind him. "I see," Harrington said with a snort. "You're asking her because she's the honest one? I suppose she is. However, I hardly think you are in a position to judge honesty." He walked behind his desk and motioned to a chair. "Please, sit down, Harry."

Reluctantly, Harry did as he was told. As he looked from Harrington to Mrs. Reading, he got the feeling that he'd walked into a situation that they had been planning for some time. It made him uneasy.

"Relax, Harry," Mrs. Reading whispered. "There's nothing to worry about." She froze suddenly and leaned a little closer. "Er, you don't mind if I call you Harry, do you?" He shook his head dismissively.

"I must apologize for the hour and the deception," Harrington began. "I was put in a difficult position and in this instance I admit that I was forced to use less honorable tactics. You see, I needed to speak with you, but I felt the chances of you agreeing to meet with me alone were lower than I required. I knew you would come if you thought you Ginny would be here. Unfortunately, that was unacceptable."

"Why?" Harry asked. "Where is she? What is this about?"

Harrington frowned. "Let us take that one question at a time." He leaned back in his chair and began toying with a quill. "You and Ginny are very close. You spent a year apart and now that you've returned, she has already risked her life for you several times. Her care for you is obvious." He put down the quill and looked into Harry's eyes. "We all know that Ginny has a tendency to let her emotions control her actions. I'm not saying that is always a bad trait, but we would be fools to ignore it. I didn't want her here because I need you to make a decision based on reason and your own desires without being swayed by her emotions."

He stood up and began pacing behind his desk. "As for the purpose of this meeting, that is much simpler." He put his hands into his pockets and looked directly at Harry.

"I want to offer you a job," he announced plainly.

"A job?" Harry replied with a slight laugh. "I've been running from the Brotherhood for a year, spending half that time either hiding or running from the Ministry. Why would I want to work for them? Perhaps you haven't heard: my parents left me quite a bit of gold."

"I know about your gold, Harry," Harrington replied. "I know you have more than enough to last your lifetime, but there is more to live for than gold, isn't there?" As Harry looked at him, he noticed a brief look of pity in his eyes. "You've been running for a year. You spent months at a time, jumping from one city to the next, never staying in one place for longer than a week or so. How have the past few weeks been, Harry? How many times have you read the books in your library? Have you started redecorating yet? How long do you think that will occupy your time?"

Harry said nothing. He knew that Harrington could tell he was close to the truth.

"You don't need a job for the gold. You need a job to end the boredom and I'm not the only one who knows it. There isn't a department in the Ministry that hasn't spent every second between the moment you appeared on that stage and now working out a plan to convince you to work for them."

Harry leaned back in his chair. "If I'm so popular, tell me why I should work for you."

Harrington smiled. "Because you don't want to work for them. More than half of them only want you so they can show you off like some trophy."

"—Like Scrimgeour—" Harry interjected.

Harrington nodded. "Precisely. I know you don't want that, and to be honest, you should feel insulted that they would even try. Others, like the Department of Magical Games and Sports, would have a real use for you. They would put you to work immediately, but that's not what you want either. You're not the sort to sit behind a desk."

He stepped around his desk and pulled his wand from his pocket. "You're a wizard of action," he said as he flicked his wand, making a cup of steaming coffee burst into existence in front of Mrs. Reading. "At Hogwarts, you wanted to be an Auror, and I'm sure they would take you in an instant. But you already know what that would mean. They are split already between those loyal to the Minister and those loyal to Reynard. You would have to pick. Both have positions waiting for you. They've been waiting for you to show up. It was not easy to get you here without them learning that you'd arrived."

"You did that?" Harry asked in shock. "The guard said that important wizards—"

"The guards just read their lists," Harrington interrupted. A sly smile stretched across his face. "You and your friends in Romania are not the only clever ones, Harry. If you had been put on the Special Exceptions list, it would require the Minister's approval. I'm sure he was considering granting it to you himself. I can only guess at the lengths he's prepared to go to get you to work with him."

"Why shouldn't I?" Harry asked, though he didn't think he was actually serious.

"There are many reasons, but I think one will be enough," Harrington replied. "If you work for me, you will be able to spend more time around Miss Weasley."

"So you want me to work with Ginny?" Harry asked. The idea did sound appealing.

"No, no," Harrington said, practically laughing. "Not only would it completely undermine the work she's already done, but I'm afraid that recent events have sufficiently proven that your skills as a diplomat are less than adequate for that sort of job."

"So what exactly am I going to be doing?" Harry asked with obvious suspicion.

Harrington and Mrs. Reading exchanged glances. He remained quiet and let her speak. "Ferdinand is in need of someone to make certain deliveries and carry the occasional message."

Harry glared at her. "He wants me to be an owl?" he growled. "How is that less insulting than being a trophy?"

Mrs. Reading frowned at him. "If it was nothing more than delivering potion ingredients and schedules, then you might be right. We've got something different in mind."

Harry regarded her with cautious curiosity as she relaxed in her chair. "What exactly would that be?" he asked.

She smiled. "Tell me, Harry: In all the months you were hiding, why didn't you ever send Ginny an owl to tell her you were still alive?"

"Owls can be intercepted," he answered quickly, "and they can be tracked."

"Precisely," she agreed. "Surely it doesn't take much thought to see the value in being able to deliver messages without risk of having them read or tracked by others. It seems you're particularly talented at both of those. We can't trust Aurors, and the only other couriers work for Scrimgeour. We could really use a wizard like you, and you could use something to break up the monotony of your life."

Harry turned from Mrs. Reading to look at Harrington. He was watching with a bemused expression. "There's more to it than that," Harry said. "If you really needed a courier you would already have one."

"You're right," agreed Harrington. "I'm going to be completely honest with you, Harry. I think there is something wrong with the world. It's damaged in a way that I can't quite understand. This business with Reynard and Scrimgeour is just a small part of it. I don't think anyone really knows what's happening, but I have to believe that you play some role in it. If I have a choice, I want you close to me so that when you figure out what it is, I'm one of the first to know." He paused, and Harry could see genuine concern in his eyes.

"Reynard and the Minister aren't the type of wizards to lose sleep over things they have to do to get what they want," he continued, "and they want you just as much as I do. They won't hesitate to threaten your friends to get it. All I'm asking for is a little information —information I would hope Ginny would give me anyway. You're going to end up working for the Ministry whether you want to or not. This may be your last chance. You still have a choice. If you walk away, I don't know how much we'll be able to do to help you."

"I don't like being threatened," Harry growled.

"It isn't a threat. It is only the truth. Please, Harry," he whispered. "You don't want to work for them. I'm trying to help you."

Harry took a moment to think. He had no reason to think that Harrington was lying. Everything he said made sense. It was surprising that it hadn't started the day before. Perhaps Grimmauld Place was safer than he thought. He didn't want to work for Harrington. He didn't want to work for anyone, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that simply wasn't possible. If he had to work for someone, he at least wanted to be able to trust them.

Harry let out a sigh. "Are there forms I need to sign?"

"Just this," Mrs. Reading replied as she unrolled a piece of parchment on the desk in front of him. Harry quickly read through it and picked up a nearby quill.

"That's all?" he asked as he signed his name. "I figured there would be loads of different things that needed to be done."

"There are," Harrington replied with a smile. "We submitted them last night."

* * *

The guard wizard just outside the gate nodded to Harry as he passed by. Instead of simply turning back to the stacks of parchment on his desk, the guard held Harry's gaze a little longer. Just before he turned away, his eyes flicked toward the fountain, then immediately back to Harry. Harry faltered for a moment, then nodded in acknowledgment. It was obvious that he was meant to look at the fountain, but the relative clumsiness of the message made him worry about just what he might find. 

Harry continued walking, purposefully keeping his eyes off the fountain. Instead, he watched the fireplaces off to the left of him. A dozen or so wizards were queued up at a single fireplace. They were all wearing dark red cloaks which bore a logo on their backs consisting of a large trophy standing in front of three circles. Harry guessed they were more of the wizards like Ron, picked to protect the World Cup matches.

When he was only a few seconds away from the fountain, Harry tore his eyes from the group and quickly scanned the area in front of him. There was nothing out of the ordinary. He slowed his pace and looked again, knowing that the whole idea of waiting was to make his search appear as casual as possible. Still, he found nothing. Had the guard made a mistake? Or had he missed something? He forced himself to continue walking, allowing him a little more time to hunt for whatever the guard had been trying to point out to him.

"Looking for something?" asked a voice from directly behind Harry.

He recognized the voice immediately. The guard's behavior made perfect sense now. "Nothing in particular," Harry answered as he slowed his pace and turned to face the fountain.

"Oh yes, of course," Josef replied, "I should have guessed. Ministry employees are unsurpassed in their ability to hunt for something while remaining completely oblivious to their surroundings." He tossed a small gold coin into the fountain and added with a chuckle: "I always assumed it required training to be that ignorant. I never expected they'd be able to do it on their first day. It's a little sad, really. I thought it would take longer to make you forget the month I spent training you."

"Oh, right, it was all my fault," Harry said sarcastically. "I'm sure it had nothing to do with the way the guard told me. If he'd held up a sign at least it would have created enough of a diversion to give me a chance. You were probably gone before he'd even finished warning me."

"Actually, I waited until you were preoccupied with those wizards your Minister is wasting gold on," Josef explained. "I tried to give you a chance."

"And you would have scolded me if I had found you before then," Harry replied bitterly. "Convince yourself of whatever you like, but remember that I stayed one step ahead of you for ten months."

Josef didn't respond immediately. They both knew Harry was right. Josef had just been taking the opportunity to prove that was just as accomplished as Harry was.

"So, you've got yourself a job," Josef commented after a few more seconds. "What is it? Security for the Minister? Quidditch official?" He paused and turned to stare at Harry. "You're not working for Reynard, are you?" There was some real concern in his voice.

"No, I'm working for Ferdinand Harrington," Harry answered. "I'm a—" He stopped short, wishing there was some better way of describing it. "I'm a courier for Harrington." Harry already knew how Josef would respond.

"A _courier_?" he laughed. "And I was just about to congratulate you on finding an excellent way out of a tight position. You do amaze me, Harry," he said while shaking his head. "Out of only a handful of jobs here that wouldn't put you and your friends in more danger, you managed to find the very worst one. Was that some plan of yours or are your negotiation skills that horrible?"

Harry released an annoyed sigh. "I wasn't interested in working for the Ministry," he told Josef. "Harrington knows that. He offered me a job that would let me do what I like without the Ministry interfering with my life."

"Ah, how idealistic of you," Josef replied. "You know, there are times when I wish the Brotherhood didn't interfere with my life, but I recognize that the occasional intrusion is more than worth the ability I gain to make the world a better place."

"Oh, really? So, how exactly did the world benefit by having a dozen dark wizards escape from a prison in Italy?"

"Only eight of them made it," Josef corrected him. "Two were killed by the guards and the other two... Well, eight was enough to convince Grigore to let me stop that cult in Sweden. How many lives did that save? Two hundred? Three hundred?"

"Yes, I'm sure those three witches who were killed in Rome two weeks later would be very impressed," sneered Harry.

"And you think you're going to do so much more?" retorted Josef. "I couldn't have done any of it alone, and neither can you. You're not going to get many followers as a courier."

"I don't want followers," Harry said. He felt his annoyance growing and he could see Josef getting more frustrated with him, though he didn't really care. "I don't want power or money or awards. I just want to be _left alone._"

"Open your eyes, Harry," Josef replied sharply. "A war is being fought in the shadows. You may choose to ignore it, but it will not ignore you."

Harry lowered his voice as a group of wizards turned to look at them. "I'm not ignoring it, but I'm not going to sell myself to one corrupt politician so I can try and stop another."

"Is that what you think this is?" Josef asked incredulously. "Just some petty power struggle by a pair of insecure wizards? I don't know about Rufus Scrimgeour, but Auguste Reynard is much more complex than that."

"Not complex enough," replied Harry. "It won't be long until we can prove that he was responsible for attacking Marius Lipton and Miraphora Franklin."

Josef raised an eyebrow. "Really? How do you plan on connecting him with the Franklin girl?"

"Marius attacked her, though he might not have been in control of himself," Harry began explaining. "We found a scar on his chest that was similar to the one on Miraphora's forehead. We think he was attacked first. We don't really know exactly how or why, but we know that he's the key."

Josef frowned and rubbed his forehead. "Marius Lipton is dead, Harry."

"What?" Harry exclaimed. "How?

"He died four days ago," Josef continued. "I went to the hospital to see him, and the healers there told me about it. No one was notified. It took less than an hour for wizards from the Department of Mysteries to take his body."

"Four days, that would mean—" He cut himself short. It meant that Marius died on Friday. He forced himself to swallow. "What time did he die?" he asked in a calm voice.

"The Unspeakables took his body away just before seven o' clock," Josef replied. "I called Ginny to the Ministry hoping we might be able to catch some news, but there was nothing. Why do you ask? Did you notice anything?"

"No," Harry replied quickly. "Nothing." He tried to act casual, but he knew he was failing. Let Josef think whatever he wanted. "Is that what you came to tell me? That Marcus's son is dead?"

"No," he answered heavily. "I went to St. Mungo's to see Marius to see if his condition had changed. I got some troubling news this morning."

Harry felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. "It's about Miraphora Franklin, isn't it? Is she dead?"

"No. I'm afraid it's worse than that," Josef replied. "Miraphora Franklin woke up this morning." He paused to give Harry some time to understand what he'd just said. "I believe when you return home, you'll find an owl waiting to deliver that message to you," he continued. "What it won't tell you is that she used her first conscious breath to call your name."

* * *

**Author's Notes**: 

Sorry for the delay. There was Christmas, and then my Beta had finals and vacation and then an illness... it was a mess. However, I'm posting this, and 15 and 16 should be coming soon (By next Wednesday), with 17 close on its heels and 18 nearly finished. Enjoy.

See. The story wasn't abandoned. I swear.


	15. Broken Memories

**CHAPTER 15**

**Broken Memories**

* * *

Harry and Ginny walked silently along the path to Hogwarts castle. This time felt even stranger than the others. It was the first time he'd returned to his old school without any attempt to conceal his identity. It wasn't supposed to feel odd, but it did. 

Perhaps the purpose of their visit had something to do with that. Just as Josef had said, Harry had returned to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place to find an owl waiting to deliver a message from Hogwarts. Again, just as he'd told Harry, it told him about Miraphora's recovery. However, there was no mention at all about anything she might have said. When Ginny returned home, he'd immediately told her the news Josef had delivered.

While the note made no requests for any action on Harry's part, he knew that he needed to talk with the girl. He would have left immediately had he not been warned that she would be surrounded by healers from St. Mungo's. They would be gone the next morning, and he wouldn't be able to truly talk to her until they were. He could wait a day, but not much longer. Miraphora had suddenly become very important. Even Ginny agreed with him. After Marius's death and disappearance, she was the only evidence they had that anything out of the ordinary had even occurred.

Beyond this, Harry simply felt that he needed to see her. The image of her looking up at him with those clear green eyes had been haunting him since he rescued her from the old room in the back of the Hospital Wing. He'd seen those eyes before, and they'd been in his dreams from that day forward. Marius might have been the key to understanding what was going on, but Miraphora Franklin might hold just as many answers. That was what Harry really needed. He needed to know why things kept on happening to him. He needed to know why his nightmares hadn't gone away.

If Ginny knew any of that, she had kept silent about it. She hadn't second guessed his decision to visit her, and had even sent a message to Harrington and Mrs. Reading to say that she would be out of the office. She hadn't protested at his demand that they visit as early as possible that morning, or that they avoid sending any sort of message to Ron and Hermione. He didn't know just what he might learn from Miss Franklin, and it seemed to be a good idea to limit the number of people who might overhear the conversation.

They crested the final hill and began their descent. The sun was just clearing the surrounding hills, bathing the trees with fiery light. Ahead of them, they could see a single Auror standing at the gates. It seemed unlikely that one of the pairs had been split up, so Harry began searching the area for the second one.

He found the other just as they got close enough to recognize the wizard at the gate. The one at the gate was Chatham, the head of the Aurors at Hogwarts. His partner, Zoe Elderbridge, was lurking along a line of trees nearby, watching them calmly.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter," he called out as they approached, nodding politely and adding, "and you as well, Miss Weasley."

He made no attempt to interrogate them or demand any explanations. He simply told them that things had been a little strange in the castle, and that they should keep their wits about them. After informing them that Professor McGonagall would most likely meet them in the Great Hall, he nodded to them both again and sent them on their way.

They continued their silent march along the path to the castle. They passed by the gamekeeper's cabin and Justinian stepped out from behind the small hut to nod solemnly at them, though he didn't say anything or make any attempt to stop them. Harry was beginning to get an eerie feeling from the place. No one seemed quite as happy as he expected them to be. Perhaps they had learned of Marius's death. However, even if they had, he assumed they would be a little happy that Miraphora had survived.

"Something isn't right, Harry," Ginny whispered as they crossed into the large courtyard leading to the main door. "Why is everyone so quiet?"

Harry didn't have any better idea than she did, but he knew that there was only one place for them to go to find out. A minute later, they reached the door. Just as Harry reached for the large iron knocker, he heard a squeal which announced the opening of the door. Argus Filch's face poked out of the gap.

"No more visitors!" he croaked. Before he could close the door, Harry's arm shot forward and held the heavy door where it was.

"We're not visitors," Ginny replied. "I am a Ministry employee on official business. I have permission from the Minister himself to—"

"I know who you are!" Filch groaned. "We've just got enough trouble as it is. We don't need you and Potter lurking about and stirring up any more." A voice called out from behind him and he cast a scowl over his shoulder. When he turned back to them, his lips were pulled back in a bitter smile. "Please do come in," he said sourly.

He stiffly waved them through the door and pushed it shut behind them. Harry looked around the Entrance Hall and found quite a few more people than he had been expecting. Professor McGonagall was standing at the foot of the stairs. On one side of her was Remus Lupin. Valencia Desmoda stood on the other.

A pair of Aurors was nearby, talking to a witch and wizard who were facing away from Harry and Ginny. One of them was shorter with long, curly brown hair, and the other was tall with bright red hair. Before Harry could say anything, he saw the Headmistress turn to look at him with an expression which told him that his arrival had been expected. A moment later, the witch and wizard turned to see what she was looking at.

"Harry!" Ron shouted almost cheerfully as he ran over to him. "Didn't expect to see you here. I hear you work for the Ministry now. Mum and Dad will be so proud." Harry smiled and shook Ron's hand. Hermione didn't seem nearly so happy to see him. She flashed an icy look at him before turning away again.

"Er, is something wrong, Hermione?" Ginny asked.

"Don't mind her," Ron replied softly. "She got in a bit of trouble with that git Reynard. He expected her to spy on you."

"Oh, well— I—" Harry began to say. He stopped when he realized he didn't know just what to say. He knew why Hermione was angry. It must have been her job to keep an eye on Harry for Reynard. However, because of the guilt and awkwardness they both felt in each other's company, she hadn't even realized that Harry had left for the Ministry the day before. Reynard obviously wasn't pleased, and by her current posture, neither was she."

"Why are you here?" she asked coldly.

"The same reason you're here, I'd guess," replied Harry.

"Why now?" she pressed him. "I've been following her recovery for three weeks."

"She's been unconscious for three weeks," he countered. "She's awake now."

"Who told you, Harry?"

"I got an owl," he replied.

"No you didn't," she snapped. "_Who told you?_"

"He is telling the truth, Hermione," announced Professor McGonagall. "I sent the owl yesterday morning telling him about Miss Franklin and warning him about the healers."

"What else did you tell him?" she asked in a controlled voice.

"You don't know? I assumed you had seen the message," McGonagall replied defensively. "I sent the message to Sirius's old house. I thought it would get to all of you there— Did something happen—"

"No, _nothing_ happened," Hermione replied in a more controlled voice, "but I do have a flat of my own. I did get a message, but it was from the Department of Mysteries. What exactly did you tell Harry?"

The Headmistress looked a little flustered for a moment. "Just that Miss Franklin had woken up and that she would be spending the rest of the day with the healers. I don't—"

Hermione interrupted her: "Did you tell him anything about _how_ she woke up?"

"Did I tell—" she began, then stopped abruptly. Her eyes narrowed and she stared back at Hermione. "No, I didn't. I thought it best if he was told in person. Perhaps Remus, since he—"

"Harry and I need to talk," Hermione interrupted her again, "—privately." She turned on her heels and walked past Harry. He looked about at the others for a moment before deciding that he'd better follow Hermione.

She was waiting for him at the door leading to the trophy room. As he approached she pointed her finger stiffly into the room. With a deep breath, he passed through the doorway and waited for her to follow. A second later, the door slammed shut. She didn't even turn around to look at him. Her wand was out and she seemed to be casting quite a few spells. Harry recognized at least one locking charm, a silencing charm, and the Muffliato charm. When she finally turned around, he was afraid of what she might want to talk about that required so much security.

"Go home, Harry," she said in a commanding tone. "Whatever reason you think you've got for being here, it can wait."

"Marius is dead. She's all we've got, Hermione."

"I know, _Harry_, that's why _I'm_ here. Why are you?"

"You already know," he guessed. Her current irritation was far beyond anything he'd experienced even within the last few days.

"Who told you?" she growled.

"Who told _you_?" he retorted.

"I'm supposed to know these things. I work for the Department of Mysteries," she snapped, "or did you forget that, Harry? Randolf told me himself. He also told me that _no one else knows_. The only person who heard her was Madam Pomfrey and she's already been memory charmed."

"How is that possible?" replied Harry. "How could someone get to her before she told anyone else? There must be someone—"

"You're right," she said with a threatening smile. "Someone else does know: _Me_. And what conclusion do you think Reynard will reach if he hears that you found out? They're trying to prove that I've been passing Ministry secrets to you. So unless you can come up with some really good reason why you know something that less than a dozen other people know, we may not have to come up with creative reasons to avoid each other any more."

"Josef," he announced clearly. "Alright? Josef told me yesterday just after I left Harrington's office. If I know him, he probably got it from some spy in the Department of Mysteries. Of course, Reynard might have been hoping that would happen. He probably expects he'll either be able to throw you in Azkaban or find which one of his little minions is still working for the Brotherhood."

"Well I'm glad to see that someone's having a day go their way," she commented bitterly. "Please, Harry, just leave and come back some other time.

"We don't have time, Hermione," Harry argued. "It took Reynard less than an hour to get rid of Marius. Don't think they won't do the same with Miraphora just because she survived."

"That's not why you're here," she countered. "If you wanted to protect her from Reynard, all you had to do was tell the _Daily Prophet._ But you don't want anyone to know about it —not yet. Why are you so eager to talk with her? What are you afraid she'll say?"

Harry tried to think of a response. "Something is happening to me —to all of us—" he corrected himself, "and that girl is all we've got left. If she can explain any of this, I need to hear it."

"I need to talk with her too, Harry. I need to talk with her without you interfering."

Harry was outraged. "You don't trust me? What do you think I'll do? Do you think I'm going to try and threaten her into lying to you?"

"No," she replied slowly, "not _intentionally_. What if she's got something to say that you find threatening somehow?"

"Why would I feel threatened?"

Hermione spun around to glare at him. "Let's just say that I don't think Miraphora Franklin is the key to understanding what is going on, but I think she knows who is. I think she's already tried to tell us."

"How many times do I have to tell you, Hermione? I didn't have anything to do with her being attacked!"

"I'm not saying you did. I never said that the guard at the Ministry was right to keep you from seeing the Minister, but that problem solved itself anyway didn't it? Backarrin wasn't evil. He wasn't working for Reynard or the Death Eaters. He got hurt because you _thought_ you were threatened. When I talk to Miss Franklin, I need the _truth_, not whatever story is left over after you unintentionally scramble what's left of her brains."

"Nothing is going to happen to her," he insisted.

"Why, because you don't want it to?" she asked. "Did you want to hurt that guard? Did you try to cause him so much pain that his mind couldn't even remember what he'd been doing for the past few hours?"

"That was a mistake," he replied. "He was threatening me. There was nothing else I could do."

"What about Friday, Harry?" she spat. "That certainly wasn't on any of my plans. Judging by your reaction, it was a living nightmare for you, too. No one was threatening you then, Harry. You did it and you didn't even realize what you were doing."

"I understand it better now," he tried to tell her. "I can control it."

"Are you willing to risk that?" she asked. "You said she was the only thing we had left. Are you willing to risk throwing all of that away because you were afraid to admit that you're dangerous?"

Harry couldn't think of anything to say. He wasn't dangerous. He just had to trust his instincts. If anything started happening, he'd know this time. He could stop it. If only he could convince Hermione.

"Go home, Harry," she ordered. "I promise I'll tell you whatever I find out. I am supposed to tell Ginny anyway."

"There are things you might not understand," he tried to argue, "things I don't know how to explain. If she—"

His voice was washed away as a blaring siren filled the room. Hermione swore and quickly slashed her wand at the door. The siren stopped and after another flick of her wand, Harry clearly heard the sound of someone knocking on the door. With a scowl, Hermione walked across the room and yanked the door open. On the other side was Remus Lupin, looking rather confused.

"What is it?" Hermione asked impatiently.

"It's Miss Franklin," he answered slowly. "She wants to speak with Harry."

"She wants—" choked Hermione. "You told her that he was here?"

"No," Lupin replied weakly, "we didn't tell anyone."

* * *

Harry and the others followed Lupin to the Hospital Wing. They managed to avoid most of the students walking about the corridors, and the few they ran across needed only a stern glance from Professor McGonagall to send them on their way without any questions. 

When they arrived at the door to the Hospital Wing, they found Madam Pomfrey waiting for them. Her eyes were fixed on Harry. "She wants to see him alone," she announced. "She was very insistent."

McGonagall frowned and turned to Harry. "Will that be alright, Harry?" she asked softly. "She hasn't been... acting like herself since she woke up. The healers from St. Mungo's were a little unnerved by some of the things she told them. If you're not comfortable—"

"I'll be fine," Harry answered immediately.

"I don't think this is a good idea," commented Hermione.

"It's alright. I'll be safe," he replied.

"You're not the one I'm afraid of," she mumbled.

Harry frowned and spoke in a reassuring voice: "If anything happens to her, I promise I'll let all of you know. I'll lock the door behind me. If anything happens, I'll unlock it. If it opens, then you'll know that I need you."

Hermione turned away with an annoyed huff. The others quickly exchanged glances and nodded in agreement. As Harry turned to walk into the Hospital Wing, he took one last moment to give Ginny an encouraging smile. She seemed troubled by Hermione's behavior but hadn't said anything about it.

Harry pushed any of his worries aside and walked into the large hall. He closed the door behind him, casting a simple locking charm and something else to keep anyone from listening in. He finished and turned around to find the hall filled with empty beds. All of them had their curtains drawn back revealing perfectly folded bed sheets. Then his eyes spotted one that didn't quite fit in. The curtains were drawn forward a little further than the others and he could just barely make out wrinkles in the sheets. He could only assume that bed was Miraphora's. He quietly walked toward it.

As he stepped around the curtains, he finally saw the girl lying in the bed. Her eyes were closed and she was almost completely still. The only motion he could see was the slow rise and fall of her chest. He walked closer, wondering whether she had fallen asleep or if this was some more troubling state.

She didn't look as healthy as he had hoped. In fact, she almost looked worse than she had when he'd carried her out of the old potion room. Everything about her looked weak and frail. Her face was a little gaunter than it had been. She was still pale, though she had lost the grey cast she'd had before. Her eyes were sunken and ringed with deep red, as though bruised.

Even more visibly, her forehead still bore a jagged scar. It looked to be healing very slowly. Perhaps it never would. As he stared at it, he felt odd. There was something repulsive about it. Seeing it made his stomach tighten and he winced with the memory of the pain he had endured because of his own scar. As if in response, he felt a slight twinge on his forehead. He rubbed it absentmindedly and hoped that the girl's scar was nothing more than some message to Harry.

"You came," she announced suddenly and without opening her eyes.

"You called for me. How did you know I was here?" he asked.

"I don't know," she answered. "I was hoping you might be able to tell me." Her eyes opened slowly. They were already staring directly at him, and in the light of the morning sun, he was able to clearly make out patches of bright green against a deeper brown color. He recoiled instantly, remembering with frightening clarity the flecks of green he'd seen in Hermione's eyes.

"What's the matter?" she asked weakly. "Do I look that bad?"

"No, it's— your eyes," he spoke haltingly, "what color are they?"

"Brown," she answered immediately. "I've always wished they were some other color. Brown is so boring. My mother has—" She stopped herself suddenly and her eyes narrowed as she looked at Harry's expression. "They're not brown, are they?" she asked shakily. Her lips started to tremble slightly. "They're green... just like the others."

Harry paused for a moment while he tried to decide what he was supposed to tell her. Why hadn't anyone else mentioned it? Were they afraid of scaring her? It seemed that it had been a useless gesture. She already knew more than they did.

"There are patches of green, yes," Harry answered. "What did you mean by _the others_? Are there other people who've been attacked?"

The girl blinked and looked around her as if she were momentarily disoriented. "I— You must... but..." she mumbled. Her arms trembled as she slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position. "Yes, there are others," she said clearly, though she sounded rather uncertain about it. "Or maybe there will be others. I— I can't remember. I wasn't the first, was I? There were so many." She looked up at Harry with an expression which pleaded him to help her understand. "Could I be the first? I don't think there ever was a first. There were always others." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "They were always the same. Green eyes. They always have green eyes." Her head jerked up and her eyes widened in fear.

"I don't want to be like them. Please don't let me be like them," she begged him. "So much hatred. I can't take it. I'll do anything, just— just not that. Don't make me—"

"It's alright," he said, rushing forward to her side. He reached a hand out toward her shoulder, but she recoiled in horror. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

"No, it's..." Her voice trailed off as she looked into Harry's eyes. "Is this... is this another dream?" she asked as if expecting him to confirm it.

"No, you woke up yesterday," he told her in a soft voice. "The healers spent all day taking care of you yesterday. Do you remember that?"

Her eyes darted about for a moment. "Yes," she whispered. "I remember that. I remember so many things. So this is... real? You're really here?" Harry smiled and nodded, but it didn't seem to make her feel better at all. Her chest started rising and falling more rapidly as she took in a series of deep breaths. Her hands shook as she stared down at them.

"It's my fault," she cried out hoarsely. "I... I brought you here. I— I didn't want to. I thought it was just—"

"I'm here to help," Harry said, but Miraphora just shook her head as her mouth opened and closed silently. "You didn't do anything wrong. You survived," he told her. She stared at him and suddenly stopped breathing entirely.

After only a few seconds he noticed her lips beginning to take on a bluish color. He leaped forward and grabbed her shoulders, shaking her to try and wake her from whatever was happening. He was rewarded with a loud choking sound followed by a series of panicked, gasping breaths.

Harry took a few deep breaths of his own and pulled a chair over beside her bed. He sat down and waited for her to relax again. His mind was swimming with a number of questions, each as bewildering as the next. Once she was breathing normally again, he decided on the one question which he was most curious about.

"How did you know I was alive?" he asked.

She blinked a few times, then stared up at the ceiling. "I... I remembered it," she said hesitantly. "Or... Maybe it was a dream. It felt like a dream."

"Was I in the dream?"

"You're in all of my dreams," she answered immediately, as if it had been the simplest question in the world.

"What about Marius Lipton? Do you remember him?"

"No. It wasn't him," she answered distractedly. "It was never Marius. It looked like him, but it wasn't. It was... something else."

"So you remember?" he asked, but she just shook her head and gave him a vacant look. "You helped me. You helped a friend of mine, and I took you away from him," he continued. "You told me that you were sorry and that you'd never disobey me again. Do you remember saying that?"

"I... I suppose so," she answered. "It wasn't you though. It was him. Wasn't it?" She began looking confused again, and began studying Harry carefully. "You're like him," she said softly. "I look at you and I see him, but you're not him. You're different."

"How am I different?"

"You're... more," she told him. "It doesn't control you. You're not like me." Harry shifted a little closer to her and asked her what she meant by that.

"I feel... different, too," she explained, "but I'm... I'm less. It feels like part of me is missing... like I'm not really here, or... or that here doesn't really exist anymore." She looked up at him with an expression of despair. "Something's happened. Something's wrong with me. I don't belong here. I— I think I'm supposed to be dead. Am I?"

"No," Harry replied immediately. "You're the victim of dark magic —very dark magic," he added. "We're going to stop whoever did this to you. Is there anything you can remember about the night you were attacked?"

Miraphora looked confused and uncomfortable. She shifted on the bed and began fidgeting with the edge of the sheet. "I went to talk with Marius," she whispered. "He was always nice to me. But when I found him, he wasn't alone. There was... someone else..."

"Did you see who it was?" Harry asked urgently. "Was it Reynard?"

The girl blinked and looked over at him. "Auguste?" she replied "I— No... It wasn't really anyone. Or— maybe it's all of them."

"All of who?" Harry questioned her. He was feeling just as confused as she looked.

"The others," she answered in a hollow voice. "He whispered to me, and I saw them... I saw them all. There were so many. Some of them... some of them I recognized," she said, horrified. "Auguste and Marius and the old woman and—" She paused as she looked at Harry in sudden realization. "And me," she croaked. A tear appeared at the corner of her eye and slowly traveled down her cheek. "It's too late. I'm... I'm—"

"It's not too late," Harry told her. "You're going to be just fine. We're here to help."

"Your friends..." she murmured. "They're here too?"

"Yes," Harry said with a smile. "Perhaps it's time for you to meet them." Miraphora looked down at her hands and nodded weakly.

* * *

Harry opened the door slowly, hoping it wouldn't startle anyone outside. On the other side, he found Ron, Hermione and Ginny, looking rather impatient. Behind them, Professor McGonagall and Lupin flanked Madam Pomfrey, looking very uncertain. 

"Well?" Ginny asked. "What did she want?"

Harry frowned. "I think she wanted to know if she was going mental."

"Is she?" Ron asked.

"I don't know yet," answered Harry, "but I think she remembers being attacked. It might be the best information we'll find."

After a little more explanation, he led them into the Hospital Wing. McGonagall, Lupin and Pomfrey followed as well, though Harry suggested that it would be better if they stood back a little to keep Miraphora a little more comfortable. He warned all of them that she wasn't always coherent, but that it seemed to only trouble her if she was forced to clarify her thoughts. They all agreed, but obviously didn't truly understand what he meant.

Harry was walking ahead of the others. When he passed the curtains around her bed, her eyes were closed again.

"You came back," she said, "but you're not alone." Her eyes blinked open and darted over to look toward the center of the room, though her view was completely blocked by the curtains. "You brought her," she said in a quavering voice. "You shouldn't have done that."

Harry turned and tried to follow the direction of Miraphora's gaze. He found Ginny standing in the front of the group and staring back at him. She had a startled expression on her face.

"Why not?" he asked.

"She's... one of them," Miraphora answered haltingly. "Or... she will be, or—" She cocked her head to one side as her expression changed to one of deep suspicion. "No... there's something wrong. I— She wants to talk with me. You brought her here to speak to me?" she asked. "She thinks she can stop it if she finds out what happened to me."

"We all do," Harry said softly. He turned and gestured for the others to approach. They crossed the distance to him slowly, as if they had silently agreed that it would be the way least likely to upset the girl. Ron, Hermione and Ginny stopped at the foot of her bed. Lupin stood behind them, with McGonagall and Pomfrey looking on from even further back.

Harry returned to his chair next to her bed, and introduced his friends formally: "Miss Franklin, I'd like you to meet Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley." She looked a little uncomfortable, but she gave them all a faint smile.

"It's nice to see you awake," Hermione commented. "I don't know if you were aware of it, but I've been keeping a close eye on you. There are some questions we will want to ask you. Is that alright?" Miraphora nodded weakly.

"Do you remember everything that happened since you woke up this morning?" Hermione asked. "Do you remember everything in the last five minutes?" Harry straightened in his chair and glared at her, but she threw up a hand telling him to stay quiet.

Miraphora was unfazed. "Yes," she answered calmly. "Harry and I were talking. I remember everything we talked about but... but some of it doesn't make sense to me. I... I don't understand a lot of it. It's all mixed up in my head. Sometimes I forget things that haven't happened yet, and remember things I never knew."

Ron gave Hermione a puzzled look, but she ignored him. "Do you remember the last thing you were talking with Harry about?"

The girl sat stiffly, staring at Hermione. After a moment, she began speaking, but her voice was different. It was calm and confident. "He didn't do anything to me," she declared. Hermione looked shocked. She started to say something, but Miraphora interrupted. "We were talking about Auguste Reynard."

Hermione appeared slightly flustered. "And before that?"

"Marius Lipton," the girl answered, though her voice lost some of its strength. "But it wasn't really him..."

"Miss Franklin was telling me that Marius wasn't alone the night she was attacked," Harry offered as explanation for her sudden confusion. "She doesn't really know who it was."

"But she remembers that night, right?" commented Ron. "Maybe it's enough if she just helps us figure out where to look. Ask her— _Ow_!" Ron recoiled in pain as Hermione elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

"She's right in front of you, Ronald," she scolded him. "Don't talk about her as if she's some mindless _thing_. She didn't ask for this to happen to her. It's not her fault. She needs help, not your condescension."

When Hermione was finished, Ron was staring at her like a chastised pet. Harry turned away and found Miraphora watching the two of them with a look of pity on her face. "Miss Franklin?" Harry called out gently. "Is there anything you—"

"Please don't call me that," she interrupted.

"What?"

"Don't call me _Miss Franklin_," she repeated. "It makes you sound like you're scolding me for something I've done wrong."

"Does that happen a lot?" Harry asked with a slight smirk.

For the first time since he'd arrived, he saw her lips twitching into a real smile. "Often enough," she replied mischievously.

"She's just a first-year!" Ron cried, earning him another elbow to the ribs. "What was that for?" he shot back at Hermione. "She's only been here for... three weeks? How often could she have gotten in trouble?"

"Often enough," Lupin repeated behind them.

"Miraphora, then?" Harry asked, noticing a spark of happiness in the young girl's eyes.

"Mira," she replied quickly. "My friends call me Mira."

Harry smiled. "Is that what I am?"

A faint blush rose in her cheeks. "If you'd like, I suppose I—" She froze suddenly, and any color that had appeared in her face drained away quickly. "I... No," she answered, clasping her hands and pulling them toward her chest protectively. Her eyes were darting about frantically and unfocused again. "I mean, er... yes— Er, I don't know?" she rambled. For a moment she had looked like herself. She was talking and thinking clearly, and suddenly it had all fallen apart.

"Wasn't I your friend once?" she asked him. "Is that why this happened? Your friends are always... they— they get hurt." Harry glanced quickly at the others and saw Lupin watching Mira while whispering to Ginny, Ron and Hermione. Mira hadn't noticed and she continued talking. "Was this some sort of punishment? Why? What am I going to do?"

"Don't worry," Harry reassured her. "It's all over, now. There's nothing for you to—" He stopped himself as he suddenly understood what she had meant. She had asked what she was _going to do_ to deserve her punishment. She thought that it hadn't happened yet.

Things started falling into place in Harry's mind. They had already expected the attacks had something to do with the Veils or gates or whatever their real name was. Grigore had said that he used it as a way to see the near future. Perhaps Reynard had done the same. When Mira was talking about those times before the attack, she seemed calmer, more coherent. The moment she started talking about the present or any time since the attack, her thoughts became jumbled and littered with misplaced memories and hazy predictions of the future.

What had he done to her? Was she some sort of test? Had she been forced into danger so that he didn't have to risk his own life or sanity? He ran his hand through his hair, trying to think of what he should do. If she truly could see the future, then she already knew everything they needed to ask her. There was just one problem: she was completely unable to tell them. He looked to Hermione for help, but his eyes came to a stop before then.

Ron had the right idea. If she could remember everything up to the attack, it was probably enough to help them figure out how to figure out the rest. He reached out and gently touched Mira's shoulder. She jumped a little and let out a faint shriek, silencing the room instantly.

"Just relax, Mira," he said in comforting tones. "You don't have to think about that. Right now, I just want you to think about the very start of the term." She stared into his eyes and her breathing began to slow. Harry continued speaking to her slowly and softly. "Tell me about coming to Hogwarts," he asked her.

She stared into his eyes, and began talking, hesitantly at first, then slowly becoming more and more natural. Hermione looked confused. Next to her, Ron was simply bored. Ginny, however, seemed to understand. She pulled up a chair and sat on the other side of Mira's bed, facing Harry.

Mira told them about being sorted and how anxious she had been. Both of her parents being Muggles, she had no idea what to expect. It didn't appear to hurt, and yet everyone around her was so nervous. Everyone had their own opinions about which house was the best, but she hardly knew anything about any of them. There was only one house which she had even heard of.

She blushed again briefly as Harry asked her which one it was. His first thought was that any Muggle-born would have heard stories about the vile way the Slytherins would treat her. The truth was more surprising.

"Er, actually it was Gryffindor," she said, looking down at her hands. "It was, er— It was the house you were in." Across the bed, Ginny raised her eyebrows and smiled at him. Ron rolled his eyes, and Harry quickly pressed her for more information about the first day of classes, slowly pushing her toward the night of the attack.

She talked about her classes, adding commentary on the merits of each of the professors. The Headmistress stiffened and opened her mouth to make some stern admonishment, but Harry stopped her with a sharp glance. Mira seemed to take pleasure in this, and continued unabated until she referred to the Transfiguration professor as Jarvis.

"Professor McManus," scolded McGonagall. Mira smiled.

The only professor she didn't criticize was Professor Lupin. Whether this was due to his skill as a professor or the reality of him standing within a few feet of her bed was impossible to tell. All she would say about him was that he had a keen eye for misbehaving students. He smiled and gave a nod of approval.

With a little coaxing, she continued on to the next week. She told them about the other students in her dormitory and how they had made fun of her because she didn't know about the paintings and house elves and trick stairs. There was only one other Muggle-born in her year, but he was a boy and he spent most of his time trying to practice flying on a broom.

As he listened, Harry began to feel sorry for the girl. He remembered how disorienting the first week at Hogwarts had been. At least he had Ron. Mira didn't seem to have any really close friends. He kept asking different questions, hoping to find something that she had enjoyed.

With a little prying —and some help from Lupin— he got her to admit that she had been slowly making friends. Her natural curiosity had gotten her in trouble a few times, and more of the other students were noticing. She had been slowly developing a reputation as something of a prankster. Not at nearly the same level of Fred and George, but quite enough for a first year according to Lupin.

She flashed a real smile for a moment as she announced that things had started to improve on the third week. At the same time, there was something melancholy about the look in her eyes. Something unexpected had happened early that week. She remembered some of the boys arguing that morning. She hadn't thought much of it, but that night one of them had caught up to her on her way back to Ravenclaw Tower.

"He was... nice," she said, as if it still surprised her. They had talked for a while. He asked her how she was adjusting to the school and offered to help her out. Harry had to throw a warning glance at Ron as he gave a disgusted grunt.

"He was really kind to me," she said quietly. "He taught me some easy spells that were actually useful. It felt good. The other students aren't mean to me, but... none of them were that nice. I've never had anyone do anything like that for me."

"It was Marius, wasn't it?" Ginny asked.

She nodded and rubbed her eyes. As she began speaking, Harry caught her voice wavering a little more. "His friends didn't... They made fun of him because he talked to me. They said he should forget about me and spend more time with Patricia Berryhill. They said I was too young for him." Mira looked over at Ginny. "It was never like that with us... He was just a good friend." She turned back to Harry, and her lip began quivering slightly. "I thought that would be the end. Patricia is really pretty but... but he kept talking to me."

Mira stared silently at her hands as they lay limp in her lap. "He's gone, you know," she said.

"He's just at St. Mungo's," Lupin replied.

"No. He's not. He's dead," she insisted. "At least, that's what they called it. He isn't coming back."

"You don't know that," Lupin tried to argue, but even as he spoke he saw Harry and Ginny giving him warning looks.

"He's gone, Professor Lupin," Mira replied. "His life ended five days ago."

The group sat in stunned silence for a moment. Professor McGonagall simply stood and looked about as if waiting for someone to deny it. Discretely, Hermione turned around and nodded gently, letting her know it was true. Lupin seemed to be taking it the hardest. "How... She couldn't possibly know that..."

"It made me watch," she said. "I saw it. I saw it take his soul. Then the Ministry came and took away his body." She got a distant expression on her face. "I wonder who will watch when it's my turn?"

Harry knew he had to get her talking about something else. "I'm really sorry," he apologized, "I know what it's like to lose a friend, but we need your help. Do you remember which day he first came to talk to you?"

Mira closed her eyes for a second. "It must have been Tuesday," she said. "Marius and his friends were fighting just after I got my copy of the _Prophet_, but I didn't have time to read it because I have Care of Magical Creatures on Tuesday mornings." Her eyes seemed to defocus for a moment, and she looked up at the ceiling. "Tuesday—" she mumbled, "that would mean it was just one day after... after—"

Harry saw her jaw clench. He had already worked out the day she was talking about. Marius had come to talk to her less than a day after the battle in Romania. How could she know that? It had happened before she was attacked. It shouldn't have been a problem.

"I know," he said in a calming voice. "You don't have to tell me. You don't even have to think about it." As he spoke he glanced up at Ginny. She'd made the connection as well. Harry tried to think of something to pull Mira back to her memories before the attack. "Er... How many times did you speak to Marius?"

"Three— no, four times," she answered. Her eyes focused on Harry and she seemed to relax again. She continued her story, explaining that they'd met after dinner again the next day, but that when she went to meet Marius on Thursday, she couldn't find him. He'd spoken with her briefly that morning, but only to remind her to meet him later. She had every intention to do that, but late that afternoon she started feeling rather ill. Pomfrey had kept her in the Hospital Wing for a few hours, and when she got out Marius was nowhere to be found. She had found him much later that night, waiting for her in the Ravenclaw common room.

Something had happened that day and he said they would need to be more careful about meeting each other. It wasn't because of the professors. She said she'd specifically asked him. He wouldn't really say what the problem was, just that they needed to be more cautious.

They hadn't talked all that much that night. Instead, Marius spent a few hours teaching her a few new spells. The very first was a good spell for slipping past charmed doors —or paintings. After a little practice, they used it to slip through the painting guarding the entrance to the tower.

"That was a good night," she said with a smile. "We didn't have to worry. He wasn't worried or nervous about his friends. He taught me so many things. I felt confident and powerful and... and I felt like I really _belonged_ somewhere."

By the next day, the situation had changed somewhat. During Potions, she'd began feeling a little dizzy. Professor Stanton had scolded her twice for a pair of nearly disastrous mistakes, before insisting that she report to the Hospital Wing. She spent the rest of Friday there, and no matter how much she tried, Madam Pomfrey refused to allow her to leave that night. When the time came for her to meet Marius, she was nearly delirious, but desperate to leave. Pomfrey gave her a Sleeping Draught and refused to allow her out of her bed.

The next morning she said she felt much better, and apparently she looked good enough for Madam Pomfrey to let her leave for the day. She told Mira to relax and try to enjoy the beautiful weather. She did, and as she took a stroll around the lake, she found Marius sitting on an old tree, as if he was waiting for her.

They didn't speak for long. Mira told them that Marius looked very uncomfortable and kept looking over his shoulder. "He had said that he didn't trust Professor Lynch," she explained, "but I don't think he's ever come out of his cabin to watch any of us." Marius had taught her a few new spells. "A better Unlocking Charm and a spell to summon clothes," she told them. "They... they were actually pretty advanced." She smiled again. "He said that he was impressed that I picked them up so quickly." He'd also instructed her to meet him late that night outside the Astronomy Tower. She told Harry that Marius said he had something very interesting to show her.

She had returned to the Hospital Wing that night as Pomfrey requested. Professor Flitwick even checked to see that she did. Of course, they didn't know what Marius had taught her. She kept herself awake that night waiting for the castle to quiet down and Madam Pomfrey to come check on her. After Pomfrey turned out the lights in her office, Mira rolled out of bed, stripped off her clothes, and summoned fresh black robes like Marius had instructed her.

She said she cast some charm on herself that Harry didn't even recognize. From what he could gather, it was some sort of disillusionment charm, but it seemed to work a little better than that. She said that when she got to the Astronomy Tower, she found Marius waiting for her.

"That little berk lied to us!" growled Ron. Harry glared at him.

Mira continued, but her explanations were beginning to slow down, and her eyes were never looking in the same place for long. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Lupin talking to Madam Pomfrey. A few seconds later, she turned and walked away silently.

Harry carefully asked her if there was anyone else nearby, or if she'd seen anything out of place on her way to see him, but she said there hadn't been anything at all. The only bizarre thing she'd seen was Marius himself. "His eyes were the brightest green I've ever seen," she told them. "But maybe they weren't," she continued, slipping back into confusion. "His eyes were never green before... and then he—"

Mira stopped and looked at Harry. Her eyes were filled with fear and her expression begged Harry to make it stop. He knew he couldn't though. Marius had been her best friend, and there was little question how her story would end.

"Do you remember what he did, Mira?" he asked gently. "Did he cast a spell?"

"No," she answered breathily. "He— I tried to stop him, but— He was so fast and strong. I— I screamed, or— I think I did. I couldn't even hear it... like it was just in my own head."

"What did he do?" Harry prodded her gently.

She winced as if feeling some horrible pain. One of her hands reached for her forehead to press against her scar. Her eyes opened, filled with horror now. "He... he _cut_ me," she whispered. "He said you would understand. He said you would see it and know what was coming."

Harry felt his own pulse quickening. "What did he cut you with?"

"Something— I... I can't... remember it," she answered with obvious effort. "It was on his chest, like it was... floating or—"

"Or hanging?" he finished for her. "Was it an amulet or talisman?" She stopped talking immediately, but he didn't wait for her response: "Was it in the shape of a circle? Like a ring?"

"No—" she replied easily, "—it was sharp at one end but not the other, like a shard of glass or metal."

"What did he do after that?"

"He just stood there and—" she began, but never finished. She let out a shriek of pain and pressed her hands against her eyes. "He's there," she hissed. "They're all there... So many... it's impossible. I can't stop him," she cried. "I didn't want to do it. I... I don't know what it means, but I can't disobey... He'll hurt me, or— he already has and—"

Harry reached out to grab onto her shoulder, and tried to get her to focus on him. It seemed to work for a moment. "What did you do, Mira?"

"I... I left," she said with a bewildered expression. "I was somewhere else. I... wrote a message," she said as she closed her eyes. "But... it didn't mean anything. It was the diary that was important. He said I had to—"

"How did you know about the diary?" Ginny interrupted.

"He told me."

Ginny leaned a little closer to her. "Marius told you? Did he—"

"No," Mira answered sharply. "Not Marius. _Him,_ I was supposed to meet Marius, but he wasn't there. It looked like Marius, but it was _him_. He spoke to me and I couldn't stop hearing it. I... It was like a dream, but I couldn't wake up. Did I wake up?" she asked Harry. "Is that why it hurts so much?"

Harry tried to ignore her question and direct her back to what had happened. There had to be something that could help them. "Why did you write the message?"

"The message wasn't important," she said in an emotionless voice. "He said you'd understand. He said it would mean something to you. It's a warning of... of what's to come. He said that he wanted you to know."

"Who is _he_?" Ginny asked. "You don't mean Marius, do you?"

"No, it's not Marius" she replied again. "He's not anyone. He— Maybe it's not even a _he_ at all. It's so many— It's nothing and everything and old... so old." Her eyes stared blankly at the foot of her bed. "You've seen him, haven't you?" she asked.

"Seen who?" prompted Harry.

Mira continued looking down at her feet. "The dark one, the old man in the hood," she said in a distant voice. "Darkness follows him, and he whispers, but you can hear him in your mind. You've seen him."

"Yes," responded Ginny.

Mira's head tilted up to reveal a confused expression. "Not you," she replied, "—her." Her eyes looked up at Hermione, who had been watching silently. "You saw him. He spoke to you."

The color drained out of Hermione's face as she stared back at Mira. "But how—" she stammered. "How could you possibly know? You... weren't even—"

"What is she talking about, Hermione?" Ron asked, but Hermione didn't show any sign that she'd even heard him. He stood up and strode over to the side of Mira's bed. "What do you mean? What old man?"

"The figure I saw the night Marius Lipton was attacked," answered Ginny. "He was wearing a dark cloak and he spoke Parseltongue. It sounded like he was whispering."

"But Hermione never saw him," Ron argued. "She was upstairs the entire time. She couldn't have— I mean—" he paused to stare at Hermione. "She never said she saw him."

"I didn't," Hermione replied as she rubbed her temples. "Not then. I barely even remembered... but, how could I forget?"

Harry stiffened. "What is it Hermione?"

"I saw him, too," she replied as her eyes widened in stunned realization. "She's right. That night, in that dingy old room, I— I saw him. He was in the corner of the room whispering something. I couldn't—" Her voice ended in a slight gasp and Harry noticed her clutch at her left elbow.

"He spoke to me in Parseltongue," she said in amazement. "He said I couldn't leave. He said I had to give Harry a message. He spoke to me, and I... I understood." She began breathing faster. "What does that mean, Harry? What did you— What did it do to me?"

"I don't know," he replied honestly as he turned his attention back to Mira. "Do you remember anything more about him?"

Mira's eyes closed tightly. "I remember so many things," she whispered. "I— Why me?" she asked as she pressed her hands against her face. "What did I do? I did everything he asked. I did... so many things... Were they all real? I— I just wanted it to end."

"It has ended," Harry tried to reassure her. "It's over."

Mira's eyes flew open to glare at him. "Then why does it _hurt_?" she cried. "Everything I do _hurts_. If this is what life is then... then I don't—"

Madam Pomfrey appeared next to Ginny carrying a small bottle of bubbling blue liquid. Without saying a word she pressed it up to Mira's lips and forced her to drink it. After a cough or two and a few deep breaths, Mira seemed to relax a little.

"What was that?" Harry asked.

"Just something to calm her down," Lupin replied. "I don't expect it will do much for her pain, but I don't think anything would. It'll be better to simply get through the rest of it as quickly as we can and let her rest."

"The rest of it?" remarked Ginny. "The rest of _what_? She doesn't know anything."

"Yes, she does," Harry replied flatly. He couldn't say just how he knew it was true, but there was something in Mira's eyes that told him that she knew so much more than anyone could understand. She had all the answers.

"No," Hermione interrupted. "You're torturing her. The more you look for answers, the more pain you put her through. Would you do it if it was one of us lying in that bed?"

"If he cared about you, yes, he would," Lupin replied sternly. "Go on, Harry. Let's get this over with."

"Mira? Are you alright?" Harry asked her. She nodded and he took a deep breath before continuing. "What sort of things do you remember?"

"Horrible things," she said in an empty voice. "So many horrible things. How many of them did I do? I— I don't know. I think he wanted to torment me. He hates me. It's not my fault though. I couldn't help it. I begged him but he wouldn't stop. I thought they were just dreams, but— I was wrong. Some of them were... were real —or they will be. I can't remember if—"

"That's alright," he interrupted her. She was starting to spiral away again, and he wasn't getting any more information. "What is the very first thing you remember?"

"It never ends," she mumbled. "It can't end and it never started. It... It was always there, and I was always there with it. I can't escape. No one can."

That wasn't going to work either. She was just rambling now. He had to go back to some time when she had been able to think more clearly. "Earlier, you told me about the first day you talked to Marius. Do you remember that day?" Mira blinked at him and nodded. "You said something happened the day before that. Do you know what that was?"

Mira's expression went blank. After a moment, her eyes narrowed a little and she nodded slowly. "The Romanian," she answered. "That was the day he took the Romanian." Harry immediately asked her how she knew that, but she just shook her head. "I— I remember it," she replied. "I was there, I think."

Harry and Ginny shared a confused look. She couldn't have been there. A quick glance over at Lupin confirmed this. He quietly informed them that the castle had been locked the entire night. They had been having quite a few sightings of wizards on the grounds, so the Aurors had been keeping a close eye on everyone.

Harry pressed Mira for more information, but could not have been prepared for what he got in response.

"Grigore was supposed to kill you," she recited. "He'd been given everything he needed. He'd been told who to watch and what to do, but he couldn't follow through. He'd been promised everything he wanted, everything his meaningless existence demanded, but in the end, not even he could accept his own teachings."

Harry noticed a glimmer of green light in Mira's eyes. Somewhere off to his right, he noticed Lupin slowly pulling his wand from his pocket.

"_Balance and order_," she sneered, "but he couldn't even control his own mind. How could he presume to mediate such colossal forces? He was nothing more than a child playing at the idea of being an adult. He deserved his fate."

"What happened to him?" Harry asked.

Mira's face paled, but her voice became even stronger. "He failed," she answered. "Razvan had her. She was so close but Grigore stole her away. The dark one was... angry," she said with a shudder. "The gateway broke. It shattered and the way was opened, but Grigore saved her. I remember it so well..."

She began describing the final moments of the battle in surprising detail. She knew the names of all the Brotherhood wizards and everyone who had been helping Josef. "Razvan was the first," she announced. "He was little more than an empty shell. The last shreds of his soul were barely enough to keep him alive. When it realized that Ginny had escaped... I— There was so much anger. It was suffocating."

Harry looked up and found Ginny's pale face staring at Mira. She didn't look shocked or surprised at all. If anything, she looked angry, as if Mira were telling some secret she didn't want anyone to know.

"Grigore was next. He had tried to run, but he knew there was no escape. His legs were shattered. I can still hear the sound of it in my mind. His ribs were next, then his arms. There was so much blood," she murmured. "He is paying for his betrayal, as I will pay for mine. Grigore begged it to kill him. He screamed and pleaded for mercy. Death would have been mercy, but he didn't get it."

"What do you mean?" Harry interrupted. "Grigore isn't dead?"

"No—" she whispered, "—but he's not alive either. It didn't kill him. It never kills them —at least, not in the way that matters the most. Grigore was... consumed. His body was destroyed and his—" She paused to take a deep breath. "He's imprisoned now, just like the rest of us. He suffers like I will, but for him it's so much worse."

"Why?"

"The old fool had them all," she spat with sudden rage. "He had Ginny. He had Potter. He even had Granger, the other Weasley and that bloody traitor who was helping them all. He had them and he let them go. The only comfort he'll ever have is knowing that his suffering isn't as great as theirs."

"Why?" Harry asked again. He could see Mira's hands clenched into tight fists, and he knew that there might not be much more time. "Why us?"

Mira's body tensed as she gasped for air. "You'll know soon enough," she said in hoarse tones. "You can't stop it now. It's too powerful. It will come for you and then you'll understand."

"Tell me, _now_," shouted Harry. "You know who's doing this. You can help me stop it."

Mira stared back at him with emotionless green eyes. "I can only help you fail."

"Who is responsible?" he continued. "What part does Reynard play? What does he want? What is he getting?" Mira tried to answer, but the only sound that came out of her mouth was shallow gasping breaths. Harry stood up and grabbed her shoulders, trying to shake her back to consciousness. "What is _it_? How is it doing this?"

"_Harry, stop!_" Ginny shouted. "You have to stop! She can't take any more!"

Harry froze and looked down at Mira. Her face was pale and her lips were just starting to take on a purple hue for the second time that morning. The green color in her eyes had faded somewhat, but they were no longer looking at him. She had turned to gaze at Ginny in horror.

"It's... It's you," she gasped. "But how could it— it was so long ago." Harry let go of her shoulders and stepped back to stare at Ginny as well. For the first time that day, Ginny looked truly surprised. "It's you," Mira repeated after taking a few breaths. "You were there... at the start."

"At the start of what?" Ginny replied.

"At the start," Mira replied simply. She stared at Ginny with a mixture of fear and fascination. "I heard you... in my dreams. Over and over, always the same. I remember hearing you shout something." Mira's eyes shut tightly as if she were concentrating very hard.

"What did I shout?" she asked.

Mira closed her eyes again. "_Look at what you've become. How could you? You promised me..._" she recited as if reading it off a piece of parchment. "You're angry and afraid... and sorry. You're... sad. Something isn't right." Mira paused and rubbed her forehead.

"It couldn't be you, though," she added with a confused expression. "It happened ages ago. That was the beginning." Mira's head turned quickly to look at Ginny again. "That's why he hates you. You look like her. You sound like her. That's why he hates me too. He looks at us and sees... the Angel."

"The Angel?" Harry repeated. Why did that sound familiar? Hadn't Grigore said something about that? "Who is the Angel?"

Mira's eyes flickered shut for a moment, the opened weakly. "The Angel and the Demon," she said faintly. "That's how it began. The sacred balance failed." Harry struggled to understand what it all meant.

"Is there anything else you remember?" Lupin asked. "Did you ever see anything around—"

"Darkness," Mira answered, stopping him. "It's growing. I can't stop it. I should be able to stop it." Her voice became more harsh and forceful. "She's just standing there. Why isn't she helping me?" She took a deep breath and her body tensed. "She betrayed me!" Mira shouted furiously. From the corner of his eye, Harry saw Lupin draw his wand and gesture for Madam Pomfrey to leave.

"It's alright, Mira," Lupin said softly as he stepped up next to Ginny. "You're not there. You're here and you're safe."

Mira ignored him. "My arm!" she cried as her left arm suddenly stiffened. "What has she done? It's... so cold." She stared down at her arm and Harry watched as her eyes slowly traced a path from her wrist up past her elbow. "Stop!" she shouted. "Why won't it stop?"

"Remus, do something!" McGonagall shouted.

Lupin raised his wand. "_Stupefy!_" he shouted, and a red beam of light shot from his wand to Mira's chest, but it had no effect.

"No!" she shouted as her body convulsed. "What has she done to me? It never ends... It never—" Suddenly, she stopped breathing altogether. Lupin leaped forward and clutched at her as Harry and Ginny backed away in horror. He quickly cast some spell Harry couldn't identify, but it didn't seem to have any effect.

Seconds later, the sound of heavy boots burst through the door to the Hospital Wing. "Poppy!" Lupin shouted as he pried open on of Mira's eyes. "I need help!"

Madam Pomfrey appeared around the curtains holding her wand in one hand and a bottle of dark liquid in the other. Following close behind her was a pair of Aurors —Aberly and Wompleruff— and Fiona Stanton, the Potions Professor. Madam Pomfrey pushed her way up to Mira's bed and waved her wand over the girl's body slowly.

"She's still alive, Remus," she announced, "but just barely." She turned around to face Harry. "We have work to do here. I must demand that you and your friends leave immediately."

* * *

As soon as they had left the Hospital Wing, Ron whirled about to glare at the other three. "Alright," he began sharply, "I know no one asked me to come, but I think some sort of explanation is in order." Before anyone could speak up, he held up a hand to silence them and continued. "I know that you and Ginny work for the Ministry," he told Hermione, "and I know that Harry..." Ron paused and looked at Harry with a confused expression. "Merlin's beard, Harry, what in bloody hell do you do? You joined a cult that worships some ancient, evil creature? Were you completely mental?" 

"It wasn't like that," Harry replied. Of course, the more he thought about it, the harder it was to convince himself that it truly wasn't. He lowered his voice and began trying to explain it as he led them out of the castle.

Whatever the Veils were, there was more than death on the other side of them. None of them could deny that. They'd seen it with their own eyes and now they had heard Mira telling them things that no living person should have been able to know. There was something else on the other side and somehow, it had found a way to speak with her.

"Hold on," Ron said. "First, you thought this was some disease. Then, it was a dark wizard attacking people. Now you're saying that some sort of ghoul is speaking to people from the world of the dead? Are you _trying_ to find the most insane explanations? Whatever happened to that bloke who was sent to St. Mungo's in 1842? I thought we said that fit perfectly. Was that just some sort of mistake? How do we know this isn't?"

"Maybe they're all correct," Harry replied. It was obvious that the thing he'd seen on the other side of the Veil was involved. They knew now that Mira _had_ been attacked by a wizard, even if he wasn't really in control of himself. This still didn't answer the similarities to poor Winston Fulbright. The coincidences were simply too strong to ignore.

"We always suspected that there was some connection between Fulbright and the Veils," he began explaining. "Maybe it's just as simple as it looks."

Whatever Fulbright had been searching for, he had found something. Maybe the rest of the world didn't know, but the Department of Mysteries must.

"Marcus Lipton worked for Reynard," Harry said. "He had been running from the Brotherhood. Reynard would be the only person who might be capable of protecting him. If Marcus told Reynard what happened in Romania, he might have found Fulbright's research and decided to give it a try."

"Why would he do that?" Ron asked.

"Power? Fame? Immortality?" suggested Ginny. "Why does anyone start using dark magic?"

"Right, of course, all those are definitely worth having your soul devoured by some creature from the black," commented Ron, "but how does this have anything to do with Marius? You think he visited his dad for lunch one day and they popped into the Death Room for a spot of tea?"

Harry let out a frustrated sigh. "I don't have all the answers, Ron. Mira said that Marius cut her with something. Whatever he did after that must be the key. Maybe it's something with blood or maybe he was wearing some other magical artifact that actually held the curse." He threw a suspicious look at Ginny.

She simply rolled her eyes. "It's just an amulet, Harry."

"An amulet we know nothing about," he argued. "Maybe that's why he had been reaching for his chest when—"

"He had a scar."

It had been Hermione's voice, but it sounded odd. Harry stopped suddenly and looked over his shoulder. Hermione was looking a little ill and her voice was hoarse and raspy. "Who? Marius Lipton?"

"Yes," she answered. "On his chest." Harry tried to tell her that they already knew that, but she shook her head emphatically. "It was more than that. It wasn't just a cut like Miraphora's. It had a— a shape."

Harry stopped to look about him and held up his hand to silence Hermione. They weren't far from the front door and he didn't want any Aurors overhearing them. He hadn't forgotten Josef's warning about some of them working for Reynard. They began walking faster, and once they had left the castle and cleared the courtyard outside the front door, Harry turned and asked Hermione what she had seen.

"It wasn't a cut," she said uneasily. "It was... as if something had burned him. It had a point at one end. That's where it was the darkest. The other end was blurry, with two long trails leading off toward his neck."

"So it was an amulet of some sort," Harry declared.

"—But not mine," Ginny added.

"We don't know that," he countered. "When we found Marius he wasn't wearing whatever gave him that scar."

"Oh come off it, Harry," she groaned. "It's a bloody circle. You can't even cut butter with it. Is it so hard to believe that there might be more than one amulet in a castle as large as Hogwarts?"

"How about we assume there is and focus on the more troubling question of what sort of thing could do any of the things that Mira just told us about," suggested Ron.

Harry lowered his voice again as they passed by Justinian's cabin. There was no sign of him, but Harry was feeling extra paranoid. "I don't really think we're going to find it in any book, Ron," Harry whispered. "This is a little beyond anything Hagrid ever talked about in class."

It was obvious that whatever it was, it had tricked the Brotherhood into doing its work. Even Grigore had been deceived and manipulated. Harry marveled at how delicate and subtle the plan must have been. It must have known that Harry wouldn't go along with the Brotherhood. That way Grigore would eventually be forced to use Ginny as bait to bring Harry back to the Veil. Objectively, that sort of plan was so unlikely to work that it was almost completely unbelievable. Of course, it was hard to argue with Mira's declaration that everything had gone as planned up until Grigore had saved Ginny. If Reynard thought he was able to control it, he was wrong.

"I still don't believe it," Ron commented. "We're supposed to believe that this thing has been hiding behind that Veil for hundreds of years and suddenly it decides that now is the perfect time to claim vengeance on the first witch who reminds it of someone who probably did the world a favor by betraying it?"

"It's not funny, Ronald," growled Hermione. "Marius is dead. In case you didn't notice, Mira isn't doing so well either. Would you be cracking jokes if it was me?"

"Of course not. Why Ginny, though?" Ron asked. "There must be thousands of red-haired witches. What's special about her?"

"Harry," answered Hermione. "She loves Harry, and there are quite a few things that make Harry special."

"What the bloody hell does it care?" replied Ron. "No offense, Harry, but I can't imagine he's the first wizard with an interesting history who's dating a red-haired witch."

"It's hatred, Ron. It doesn't need a reason."

As they approached the main gate, The Aurors appeared slightly more tense than normal. As the four of them approached, the Aurors nodded stiffly and announced that someone was waiting for them. Once they passed through the gates, they found Josef leaning casually against a nearby tree.

"Did you learn anything worth while?" he asked lazily. Something about the smug expression on his face annoyed Harry.

"How much did you know?" Harry snarled as he strode toward him.

Josef raised an eyebrow. "I know about a lot of things," he said. "You've never really been interested in any of them before now."

"How much did you know about the attacks?"

Josef's face went blank and he stared back at Harry in confusion. "I told you everything I knew."

"Tell me about the Veils," Harry demanded. "There is something behind them and it's been trying to get out."

Josef grunted and glared at him. "I thought you weren't interested in legends and folk tales?"

"I get interested when they start killing students," Harry said. "What do you know?"

Josef rolled his eyes impatiently and motioned for them to follow him away from the Aurors. As they walked, Josef briefly explained what he knew about the Veil in Romania. The Brotherhood had always known about the creature that lurked just on the other side of the arch buried beneath the castle. They had gathered there to keep watch over it and see that it never broke free.

"And it never has," Josef added pointedly. "It's locked behind enchanted doors and tons of charmed rock. I don't know why it wasn't done before. I told Grigore to do it the very first time I saw the damaged arch." He stopped and faced Harry. "I saw Marius. Your concerns are real. They're just misplaced. The Brotherhood has no part in this. I spoke to Dragomir myself."

"That's comforting," said Harry. "I'd rather make my own decision. All of this started less than a day after the battle in Romania. One of your former friends knew something and he told Reynard."

"You're looking in the wrong place," Josef groaned.

"Maybe we are," admitted Harry. "Something tells me that you'll have an easier time searching for information than any of us would. If you're really here to help us, you'll do as I ask and find out what the Brotherhood knows."

"Well, I'll be sure to do that as soon as I have a spare moment," commented Josef. "In the meantime, perhaps you might want to look for some answers which aren't buried under a mountain of heavily enchanted stone."

"And what would those be?"

"The Librarian," he replied. "Valencia Desmoda, I believe she called herself. She said she worked in the large magical library in Barcelona."

"Yes?" Harry prompted him impatiently.

"While you have been chasing shadows and looking under rocks, I've been spending my time in libraries —a pastime I had been told to expect of Miss Granger. Don't you remember the very first thing Grigore taught you, Harry?"

Harry was in no mood for guessing games. "I must have forgotten it sometime after he tried to murder me and my friends. Of course, I don't know if _murder_ is really the right word. By the sound of it, it's nothing more than having your soul ripped from your body and tortured for some horribly long period of time." He flashed a bitter smile. "I guess I'm easily distracted. Why don't you remind me?"

"Your librarian never worked at the _Biblioteca de la Magia Antigua_," Josef announced. "There is no record of her or even anyone her age working there. _Valencia Desmoda_ isn't even her real name. The Desmoda family disappeared over four hundred years ago."

"They disappeared?" commented Harry. "How does a family just disappear?"

"Violently," Josef answered with a grim smile. "It looks as if they were hunted down and killed by a group of wizards."

"How odd," Harry replied sarcastically. "What group of wizards would ever do a thing like—"

"No, Harry. It wasn't the Brotherhood."

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

This is one of my favorite chapters so far. It was fun to write and it's filled with so many hints and clues about what is happening. Of course, don't feel bad if you can't see any of it just yet. Its not like it's easy to see any of it through the confused ramblings that fill the chapter. However, you might want to take note of this chapter and come back to read it occasionally as the story progresses.

Chapter 16 is also ready to get posted and I'll be working on getting that done in the next few days.


	16. Contraband

**CHAPTER 16**

**Contraband**

* * *

The week following his encounter with Mira passed slowly for Harry. Josef promised him that he would follow up on Harry's concerns as long as he would seriously consider other possibilities. Harry tried but it was much more difficult than it sounded. 

No matter how he looked at it, he couldn't get past his certainty that whatever he had seen beyond the Veil was the source of everything that was happening. It simply _must_ be the cause. The problem was still finding some way to prove that Reynard was involved. It wouldn't be enough to prove that he was studying the Veil in the Ministry of Magic. He was the head of the Department of Mysteries. He was supposed to be studying it. If only Harry could find something connecting Reynard to Grigore and the Veil in Romania, he might be able to convince someone to look into it more closely. He was certain that once the Ministry started looking into Reynard's actions over the last year, they would find enough to not only prove that he was responsible for the attacks, but to fully explain how and why he had done it.

It would be almost impossible to work things out from the other direction. Mira had clearly been attacked by Marius. Sometime before that, Marius must have been exposed to the Veil, or attacked by someone else who had been. Of course, now that he was dead and his body had disappeared, it would be much more difficult to find out just which one it was. Conveniently, the most obvious link between Marius and the Ministry, his father Marcus, had died weeks earlier in a manner that left him completely unrecognizable.

Someone was trying very hard to destroy any link between the attacks at Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic.

The idea that Valencia was this link was confusing at best. If she were responsible, why would she try to help Lupin and the rest of them find out who had attacked Marius and Mira? Why would she keep quiet about Harry while everyone else was so eager to think that he was involved? Wouldn't she want to expose him and let him take the blame?

The more Harry started thinking about it, the more he began to see how Josef might be tempted to think she played some part in all of it. The attacks had started only weeks after Valencia arrived at Hogwarts. It wasn't uncommon for her to be walking the corridors at night when both of the attacks occurred. She had some ability to see him even when wearing his Invisibility Cloak but wasn't willing to explain how. Neither had Dumbledore, but at least there was a record of where Dumbledore had been when he was younger.

Harry couldn't deny that there was something mysterious about Valencia. She had been uncannily quick to find the one book which could help confirm the connection between the attacks and the Veils. She'd also shown a surprising amount of composure when confronted with a student who was obviously under the effects of very dark magic. She said she had found Marius, and yet there was never any indication of fear for her own well being.

However, he still couldn't force any of it to make sense. If she were the one behind the attacks, she couldn't be acting alone. It was preposterous to think that she would take a position at a school just to attack students and blame the local Ministry. There was no point to it. Even ignoring that, the links to the Veil were impossible to reconcile. There was no way that Marius or Mira or Hermione could possibly know the words which had haunted his dreams for months.

Perhaps both topics were dead ends. If Reynard had found Fulbright's research, perhaps he didn't need any help from the Brotherhood. Perhaps he'd been working on this for some time and simply saw Grigore's death and the changes in the Brotherhood as an opportunity to strike before anyone figured out what was going on. Perhaps he was completely wrong about everything.

Harry needed help, but there was no one left to help him. Hermione had only stopped by twice since the visit to Mira. He tried to mention his questions about Valencia, but Hermione wouldn't even talk about it. He tried to explain that he just needed to prove Josef wrong, but she scowled at him and insisted that he didn't need her help to prove that. Her second visit had come to an abrupt end the moment he brought the subject up a second time.

Ginny was more sympathetic, but now that the World Cup matches were taking place, she had less and less time to spend sneaking about looking for information. She spent one night looking through a few books with him before giving up and convincing him to leave the books and enjoy a quiet night by the fireplace.

Of his friends, only Ron had seriously offered him help. Of course, Ron had no more idea of where to look than Harry did, and spending time with him had the added risk of running into Hermione. According to Ron, she'd become much more suspicious and nervous lately than she had been for quite some time.

"Something's just not quite right about her," he'd told Harry. They'd popped into a small pub after searching a dusty old book shop for information. "She's been wearing jumpers all week. I don't really have anything against jumpers. She looks good in them. It's just a bit... odd. I stopped asking her about them. She always says she's cold," he said as he sipped at some spiced mead. "I've nearly burnt down her flat trying to make it warm enough for her, but I've never succeeded."

"Could she be sick?"

"Might be," Ron said as he took another drink of mead. "Don't ask her, though. I nearly lost an arm." After a pause and a shrug, he continued in a defeated tone: "She said she talked to Madam Pomfrey about it. Apparently it's just stress and lack of sleep."

"You believe her?" Harry asked.

Ron just shrugged again. "I suppose. I guess I'm used to it by now," he replied. "This is still new to you. You weren't around for the last year. Last winter she refused to drink anything other than water for three weeks. I never really found out why. It was some Department of Mysteries thing that she couldn't tell me about."

Harry couldn't help but think it was somehow related to their interlude the night of the ceremony. She hadn't been eating all that much since then. Perhaps she was getting ill and didn't want to think about it. He decided that he should try to mention it to Ginny and see if she would have any more luck talking to Hermione about it.

As the next round of Quidditch World Cup matches approached, even Ron disappeared, leaving Harry alone to continue his fruitless search for information that simply didn't exist. He hadn't heard anything from Josef and as the days passed he started to believe that Josef was taking his research no more seriously than Harry was.

The end of October neared and Harry begam to give up hope. There had been no more attacks and he hadn't found anything that explained how they happened or proved who was responsible. Had Reynard given up as well? It just didn't seem like him. He'd shown a display of dark magic as powerful as anything Voldemort had ever shown publicly, and now he was just going to give up?

Harry began each day by reading the _Daily Prophet_ and a half dozen other wizarding newspapers from across Europe. There was surprisingly little activity. The biggest stories were either related to the national Quidditch teams in the area or whatever new scandal had been caused by the area celebrities. After a year of keeping track of the Brotherhood, he knew how to pick out the most important stories, but there was nothing. If anything sinister was happening, someone was doing an excellent job of hiding it.

The day before Halloween, Ron showed up at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place holding a pair of rolls of parchment along with a large leather case. "I think everyone forgot that I'm the Quidditch Security Wizard and that you're the courier," he announced as he walked through the door.

"Those are for me?"

"Of course they are," Ron groaned. "If they were for anyone else, they would have made the poor bastard come and get them for themselves. For some reason, it seems they need a courier just to deliver messages to their courier." Ron tossed the rolls on the kitchen table and sat down on one of the benches.

"Who are _they_?" Harry asked as he eyed the rolls of parchment.

"That one is from Harrington," Ron explained, pointing to the smallest roll. It was tied with a golden ribbon. "The other is from Josef. He sent the case as well. He was lurking about the atrium when I left, and said that you might find them interesting." This only made Harry even more suspicious.

"Lucky for them I just happened to be leaving the Ministry," he continued. "I wasn't supposed to be in today, but I had to show up and fill out some travel forms for tomorrow."

"What travel forms did you need to sign?" Harry asked as he picked up the roll from Harrington and gently opened it. It was actually a number of pieces of parchment rolled together. He removed the one on top and began reading it, hoping that it might have some good news."

"Well, that was the other thing I came to tell you," Ron said with a smile. "After pulling duty for three of the most boring games of the tournament, I finally got some luck. One of the French wizards who was going to be watching over the Bulgaria and Italy match came down with Dragon Pox. They didn't want him around all those people, so I got picked as his replacement." He flashed a triumphant smile at Harry. "If you want tickets, I can get a pair for you and Ginny."

"I don't know about Ginny," Harry said in an empty voice, "but I won't be needing a ticket." Harry dropped the first piece of parchment on the table and began looking at the two other pieces. "It looks like Harrington wants me to deliver something to some bloke at that very match. He says he'll find me. I'm just supposed to watch the match and wait for someone calling himself Julius Whitmore to introduce himself."

Ron looked disappointed. "Well... I guess that would work. Maybe Ginny and Hermione could come along, then. What are the others?" He asked suddenly. It seemed like he just wanted to change the subject.

The smaller roll seemed to be more likely to be written by Josef himself, so Harry reached for the larger leather case instead. At that moment, he wasn't really eager to hear what Josef had to say. It took a little work to get the case to open, but once he did, he found a large stack of parchment bundled together with red cord.

Ron looked on with curiosity as Harry untied the cord, picked up the first piece of parchment and squinted at the tiny writing on it. At the top of it there was a block of text written in some foreign language, probably Spanish. Harry couldn't read it, but it couldn't say much. It was only a few sentences. Beneath it was one long column of script. It seemed to be a list of names. After each name, there was a number, then a pair of dates.

He looked at the following page, and the one after it. At first there seemed to be no pattern to the names, but after a few pages or so of names, he noticed that the dates on each page always came after those on the next page. Also, the second date after each name was always some time after the first. Ron noticed it as well.

"What do they mean?" Ron asked as he leaned closer. "Are they the dates they were born and then died?"

That was exactly what Harry had thought. He scanned down the list, looking for something that might have some meaning to him. If Josef sent it, there must have been some reason.

"Harry," Ron said in a weak voice, "wherever these people were, it must have been pretty bad. Look at this." He jabbed his finger at a point farther down the parchment. The dates alongside that name differed by no more than a week. "But that's not all," continued Ron. "Look at _all_ of them. I haven't found a single person who's lived past the age of sixty or so. Lupin's a werewolf and he's older than most of these people. Loads of them didn't even make it ten years."

It was eerie. Harry quickly pulled out the very last piece in the stack and looked at the year on the top of the page: _1173_. A quick look through the very bottom of the stack revealed the same pattern they'd seen at the top.

"What in bloody hell is this?" Ron commented as he stared down at the stack. "This has been happening for over eight hundred years?"

Harry had enough. There had to be some explanation. He reached for the second roll of parchment and quickly ripped off the ribbon tied around it. He expected to see yet another one of Josef's short, terse messages. Instead, he found a simple message written in elegant, flowing script. He immediately knew it couldn't be from Josef.

"Well?" prompted Ron. "What does he say about it?"

"It's not from Josef," answered Harry. "It's a letter of some sort."

"What does it say?"

Harry scanned the letter lightly, then slowly began reading it aloud.

_Dear Mr. Karnstein,_

"Karnstein?" interrupted Ron. "Do we know who that is?"

"It's Josef," Harry replied distractedly.

"I thought his last name was Kantos."

Harry looked up from the message to nod. "It is. Karnstein is one of the names he uses publicly. He'd never use his own name." Before Ron could ask any more questions, he continued reading the message.

_On behalf of the Biblioteca de la Magia Antigua, I thank you for your generous gift. It is always a pleasure to find wizards who value learning and knowledge as much as you do._

_However, I'm afraid that there is little I can do to repay your kindness. I took it upon myself to search for any trace of your friend in our records. I'm afraid that there was not much to find, and I fear that it will do little to help you in finding her._

_The only record I can find of a witch named Valencia Desmoda was from the confidential lists of witches and wizards who have been granted access to our most treasured books. The name was found among those who have read the second volume of A History Of Magic. Unfortunately, the entry was recorded over three hundred years ago. Perhaps this might be some ancestor of your lost friend._

_I wish you luck on your quest, and I thank you again for your donation._

_Cordially, Luis Sandoval_

"Oh. Is that what this is about?" Ron asked as he regarded the message with confusion. "Josef still thinks Valencia attacked those students?"

"He thinks she played some part in it, yeah. Oh, hold on— I know what this is," Harry said as he turned back to the stack of names. "It's not a list of people and when they were born and died." He pulled off the top page and slammed it down on the table. "It's a list of employees. The first date is when they were hired and the second was when they stopped working for the library. It's probably a list of everyone who's ever worked for the library at Barcelona."

"So?" asked Ron. "I thought he already said that she hadn't worked there. Are we supposed to prove him wrong?"

"No, I think he's trying to make a point," Harry explained. "Josef wants to be certain that I don't ignore what he said. He knows I don't believe him so he sent me something to prove that it was worth looking into. If I want to prove him wrong, all I have to do is explain this. Of course, to do that, it might take months of research." Harry tossed the page back on top of the rest of the stack. "He did it to force me to admit that he was right, and it worked."

Ron let out an indifferent grunt. "I thought she seemed alright. She was nicer than most of the murderers I've met, and if it was her, then she did a pretty bad job of it. I mean, I barely even remember what the Potions professor looks like. If Valencia attacked them, she could've just kept her nose out of all of it and no one would even be asking questions."

Harry had to admit that Ron had a point. And yet, he couldn't ignore the evidence that Josef had just delivered to him. Valencia was hiding something. It was more than just acting mysteriously. Mad-Eye Moody acted mysteriously, but there wasn't anything truly mysterious about him. Valencia was different. She'd lied to quite a few people, including Lupin and Professor McGonagall. She'd hidden her identity and Harry knew first hand that people who hide their identity are usually hiding much more.

As he waited for Ginny to return, he began to wonder just how much Valencia could be hiding. He remembered what Josef had said to him the last time he was at Hogwarts, and wondered if he could be right about more than her hidden past.

His thoughts returned to the first time he'd met Grigore Tarus. After killing some poor witch who he'd probably tricked or hexed into impersonating Ginny, he'd taken Harry to Hogsmeade to tell him about the Brotherhood. The very first thing Harry asked was why they were talking about something so secretive in a place as public as the _Three Broomsticks_.

His answer was ironic in hindsight. It had been his very first lesson as a member of the Brotherhood: If you lock a door, everyone will want to see what's behind it. Leave it open and everyone will assume there is nothing to see. While not doing anything, members generally stayed in the restricted areas of the castle in Romania. Some would return to various other jobs which kept them out of sight or notice. However, when they were doing something for the Brotherhood, they often walked about openly, purposefully making themselves visible and noticeable. They would speak with or even help those they were supposed to be watching or fighting. This would almost ensure they would never be suspected of whatever acts they were sent to do.

Despite the universal nature of the message, Harry hadn't expected that Grigore himself was doing it at that very moment. Was it possible that Valencia had been doing the very same thing? Could she be working for Reynard? Had she been manipulating Lupin into giving her information? How much could she know about the Order? How much did she know about him?

When Ginny returned home, she found Harry sitting in the parlor and staring at the flames dancing in the fireplace.

"Is everything alright, Harry?" she asked.

Harry took a moment to think of just how he should answer. "No," he finally replied. "Something is definitely wrong —several things, I'd guess— but I'm not sure just how bad any of them are." Ginny sat down in a nearby chair facing him and waited for him to continue.

"I think Josef might have been right about Valencia," he said in quiet voice. For a moment, Ginny just stared back at him frowning slightly.

"What do you mean?"

Harry handed her the letter from Luis Sandoval and sat silently as she read it. He watched as her expression slowly darkened, her concern for Harry melting into a look of regret. "There might be any number of explanations why he couldn't find her," she said as rolled up the letter.

"I know."

"Whoever gave her that book must have worked for the library," Ginny continued. "They recognized her. They even used her name. _Someone_ knows who she is."

"I just wish it was me," replied Harry.

Despite her arguments, Ginny's eyes were filled with just as much doubt as Harry's. She fell back into her chair and let out a frustrated sigh. Harry knew how she felt. It hadn't been so different from his reaction the first time he was betrayed by a former friend as he ran from the Brotherhood. Somehow it was easier to accept the bigger betrayals than the smaller ones. Of course, there was always an exception, and Harry was pretty sure that kissing Hermione was one of them. After seeing how this affected Ginny, it made him sick to think of how she might react to that revelation.

"What should we do about this?" she asked.

Harry ran his hand through his hair and let out a long sigh. "I guess we need to talk with Josef."

"I'll let him know. We can meet in my office Sunday night," she suggested.

Harry shook his head. "No. We need something a little less private. Ron can get you and Josef tickets to the Bulgaria match tomorrow. I'll meet you there."

Ginny's frown deepened. "I'm afraid that won't work," she replied. "I just sent a note to Professor McGonagall. Josef wants to see Mira. He said he needed to speak with her urgently and they won't let him into Hogwarts unless I escort him."

Harry felt his jaw tighten. "If it's so urgent, why isn't he going tonight?"

"He said he had something to do outside Britain," she explained. "Something for you."

"Fine," Harry groaned. "Some other night then. If he's so busy, I'll just wait until he's got something that's worth my time."

* * *

"You're certain this is necessary?" Ginny asked heavily as she knocked on the front door of Hogwarts Castle. 

Josef raised an eyebrow. "Is my company so bothersome to you that the whole wizarding world would need to be in peril for you to spend a morning with me?"

"No," Ginny said with an exasperated groan. "I'm not the one I'm worried about." She lowered her voice as she heard boots approaching from the other side. "You didn't see her, then. She was better, but— worse, in a way. I— I know what despair feels like. There was a time when I thought I'd never be happy again. Mira was different. She _knows_ she'll never be alright." She looked into Josef's eyes. "Something happened to her. She's been damaged in a way that none of us understand, and she knows it."

"Does she know—"

Josef's question was interrupted by the sharp squeal of heavy doors swinging open. Standing on the threshold was Justinian Lynch, looking slightly annoyed. "Good morning, Ginny," he greeted her stiffly. "Will you be requiring Mr. Kantos's presence?"

"Will that be a problem?" she asked warily.

"Of course not," he replied with a frown. "However, the Headmistress has requested that outsiders be stopped unless absolutely necessary."

"He's helping us," Ginny insisted. "Professor McGonagall knows that. We came here to speak with Mira. We wouldn't have come if it wasn't important." She paused and waited for some response. When nothing came, her face hardened in confused frustration. "Even if it wasn't important, you have no power to stop either of us. Now, we have business to attend to. Either summon the Headmistress or stand aside."

Justinian bowed and stepped away from the door. "If you insist, Miss Weasley. We must ask, however, that you remain with him at all times."

Ginny agreed, and let him lead her and Josef through the entrance hall and down the corridor that led toward the Hospital Wing. As they walked, Justinian gave them a brief update on Mira's condition. "Her recovery has been slower since your last visit," he said with an accusatory look. "I'm sure I speak for everyone when I say that I hope you will be a little gentler this time. She is not a source of information. She is a young girl who has experienced horrors you cannot imagine."

Ginny simply glared back at Justinian, wondering what had happened to make him behave so differently. He was normally cheerful and friendly, but that morning his demeanor was distinctly cold.

"She's not the only one," Josef replied, "and the information she has might save many from a similar fate. Even if I had to choose between her life and the fate of fifty others, I would not hesitate to do what needed to be done."

"And you think your actions could save their lives?" Justinian asked.

"Perhaps, yes," he answered, "and we could save more if others would help us rather than second guessing our motives and resolve." Before Justinian could reply, Josef spoke up again: "Hold your questions, Lynch. Instead, I would ask that you fetch me your librarian."

"You are here only as a guest," Justinian snapped. "I am not your servant nor are you in a position of any authority."

When Josef spoke again, Ginny could hear a hard edge to his voice. "I asked only as a courtesy. I believe you'll find that Ginny and I speak with one voice. We are working toward the same goal, now send word that we wish to speak with her. It's impolite to force Ginny to use her authority to get help from someone who she has considered a friend."

Justinian walked in brooding silence for another minute. "What business do you have with Valencia?" he finally asked as they neared the Hospital Wing.

"Our business is our own," Josef replied flatly. "It should be your business as well, so I will say that of everyone within this castle, she has had the closest contact with whatever has attacked young Miraphora. That should be enough to warrant our meeting."

"I will see what I can do," Justinian replied sullenly. "However, I can only ask. I'm afraid my command is only the request of friend and not the order of a Ministry Official," he said with a glance toward Ginny. "Unlike the professors, a librarian's job is constant."

"It is a Saturday morning," Josef replied. "What few students might be awake are outside enjoying themselves. It is still early in the year. No student will have any pressing need of the library at this hour."

They turned one last corner and found Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey standing at the end of the corridor waiting for them. As they approached, McGonagall frowned and stared at Josef. "This is your doing, is it not, Mr. Kantos? Are you certain this is absolutely necessary?"

Josef's lips stretched into a thin smile. "The fate of the wizarding world may very well depend upon it."

McGonagall frowned, but nodded and led them to the door to the Hospital Wing. "I assume that you will want to speak with her in private?" she asked.

"Yes," Ginny answered quickly, "and we'd also like to speak to Valencia if she has some time."

"I'll send her right down," the Headmistress replied. "Saturday mornings have been rather boring for her. I'm sure she'd appreciate something to do."

Ginny caught Josef glaring at Justinian, who stared back without any trace of emotion. McGonagall opened the door and ushered them into the Hospital Wing. "Poppy will wait just outside the door," she told them. "Call if you need anything. Valencia will be down shortly." Finally, she turned to give Justinian a strange look. "Professor Lynch, would you please go and keep a close watch on any students who decide to spend the morning on the grounds. I will need you to gather them immediately if the Aurors sound the alarm."

Ginny wondered what she'd meant by that. Obviously McGonagall hadn't been concerned about such things before she and Josef arrived. What was she worried about? Had something happened?

She let Josef lead the way into the large hall. It hadn't changed noticeably since the last time they were there. Ginny wondered if any other students were ever taken there. None of the beds looked like they had been used, but then, they rarely ever did.

Mira was still in the same bed. Ginny hoped that she hadn't spent all of the last two weeks there. She felt bad enough at the thought of spending that much time in the Hospital Wing. It would be torture if she wasn't allowed to leave her bed, even just for a few hours. Perhaps she was. Her being in bed that early in the morning didn't really prove anything. It was just an odd feeling that she got from the room.

Ginny's first impression of Mira's recovery was a positive one. As they walked around the curtain, they found her awake and sitting up in bed. Her head was down, staring at her hands as they lay in her lap. She didn't look up as they stopped at the foot of her bed, yet Ginny got the feeling that she was aware of their presence.

"Hello, again," Ginny greeted her.

"Hello," Mira replied in a hollow voice.

Ginny tried to ignore her tone. "How are you doing?" she asked. "You look a little better."

"Do I?" she asked. She still hadn't looked up from her hands. She was inspecting them as if something about them didn't make sense to her. "The rest of them don't think so."

"The rest of who?"

"_Them_," she repeated with a nod toward the door. "Pomfrey and McGonagall and the werewolf and the rest of them. They're afraid of me." Slowly, she looked up at Ginny. "So are you." Ginny didn't respond. She didn't know how to. Mira's head tilted slightly as she turned to look at Josef. "But not you," she said with a touch of curiosity. "You're afraid of something else."

There was a tense pause as Mira and Josef looked at each other. "You're afraid of many things," she said with the start of a faint smile on her lips. "You're afraid of me, of what I am and what I know. You're afraid of her," she said, glancing at Ginny. "You're afraid of what she'll think if she finds out. But even more than that, you're afraid of yourself. You're afraid that it's too late to undo all the things you've done. You're afraid that you'll never escape the path that your parents laid for you."

Josef remained calm. "What do you know of my parents?"

"More than you do," Mira replied quickly. Her voice was sharp and biting, as if she were annoyed or irritated. There was something wrong about her. She'd seemed so different last time. She had been full of concern and doubt and desire to help. Now she was acting almost arrogant.

"I didn't come here to talk about my parents."

"Then why _did_ you come here?" Mira asked slowly.

"I came as a favor for a friend," answered Josef.

"Harry? A friend?" she scoffed. "You're a fool. You tried to kill him. You kept her from him for a year. Do you think he's forgiven you for that? Would you have?"

"That doesn't matter," Josef replied flatly. "I am here."

"Yes, you are," the girl replied. "You came for answers. Have you found them? Do you understand? Do you believe, now?" Josef didn't answer. He simply stood and stared at the girl.

A low grinding noise echoed through the hall, followed by a faint squeal. Ginny turned around to see Valencia closing the door behind her. Josef had turned as well and he was now completely focused on Valencia as she walked toward them. Ginny heard a faint gasp and found Mira doubled over on her bed, taking deep breaths.

"What is it, Mira?" Ginny asked as she rushed forward.

"What— Where am I?" she asked hoarsely. "Who are— It's you again." Her eyes widened and she sat up stiffly. "You're here. Why are you here?"

"We're trying to figure out what happened to you," Ginny whispered.

"What's happened to— I... Was I talking to you? What did I say?" Her eyes twitched back and forth as though she were watching some insect flying just beyond her nose. "Did I— Did I... attack anyone?" she asked suddenly.

"No... Who do you—"

"Don't go!" she shouted suddenly as he hand shot out to grip Ginny's arm.

Ginny tried to pull her arm away gently, but Mira's grip was unnaturally strong. "I'm not going anywhere, Mira," she replied gently as she threw a panicked look at Josef. He'd finally pulled his attention away from Valencia. Both of them walked closer, and Josef knelt down next to Ginny and tried to gently peel Mira's hand from her wrist.

"You mustn't go," she continued to beg. "It'll be worse if you do... You... you don't understand... she wants you to. But it's not her. It's..."

"Who is _she_?" Valencia asked.

Instead of answering, Mira's head turned quickly to look directly at Valencia. Her mouth dropped open and she struggled to take in a deep breath. "The... old woman," Mira said as she pushed herself away from Valencia. "No... keep me away from her. I— I don't want to hurt anyone. Please don't make me—"

Ginny reached forward to grab Mira's shoulders and force the girl to look at her. "No one is going to make you do anything," she told her. "You're getting better. Just relax. No one is going to hurt you. You're safe here."

This seemed to relax her a little bit, but her eyes still darted about the room wildly. "I'm not safe here," she insisted. "I'm not safe anywhere. I can't hide. You can, but I can't. Everywhere I go... it's there, waiting for me... in the shadows, always in the shadows. I don't want to do it. I want to run or sleep or die, but he won't let me."

"Have you seen _him_?" Josef asked. "Do you know what he looks like?"

"Dark," Mira answered as she shook off some more of her panic. "He's always in the dark. He's got a cloak and robes and a hood and..." She paused to look up at Ginny. "His eyes... glowing green like two lanterns in the midnight fog. I can't get them out of my dreams. He's angry with me. Please... help me stop him from being angry with me."

Mira was starting to breathe faster and faster. Ginny tried to ask her what she meant, but Josef insisted that they leave. As soon as he mentioned it, Ginny saw what was happening. Flecks of green had appeared in her eyes and they seemed to be growing. If they didn't leave soon, she would probably spend the next month or more in the hospital wing. Unless of course, they decided to send her to St. Mungo's. Either way, the situation was clear: they were endangering her by remaining there.

Standing up, Ginny allowed Josef to lead her out of the hall. As he opened the door, he told Madam Pomfrey that the girl was panicking and that she needed something to calm her down. Pomfrey was happy to see them leaving and quickly rushed into the Hospital Wing.

When the door had closed, Josef looked over at Valencia. "I was wondering if you might be willing to answer a few questions for me."

"Of course," she replied. "We can speak in the Library. It'll be empty."

"No," he snapped. "I think we should talk _outside_." His expression was hard and unyielding. "I insist."

Valencia said nothing, but whirled around and began walking down the corridor. Josef and Ginny followed quickly behind her. When they reached the Entrance Hall, Ginny half expected Valencia to ignore Josef's request and start up the staircase toward the Library. However, instead she turned and strode confidently to the main doors.

With a single, smooth motion she pulled the door open and motioned for Josef and Ginny to step through. Ginny did, but Josef remained behind where he exchanged smoldering glares with Valencia. When Valencia finally relented and stepped outside, Ginny tried to catch her attention and apologize for Josef's behavior, but she refused to take her eyes off Josef.

She led them across the courtyard to a shady corner which would provide enough privacy for a serious conversation. "Will this do?" she asked in a patronizing tone.

"It's a beautiful morning and you want to lurk in the shadows?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, I apologize. I assumed that was what you would want," she replied innocently. "I'm afraid I haven't spent as much time lurking about the shadows around Hogwarts as you have. You know all the good places to hide, don't you?"

"Are you finished?" he asked flatly.

"Why meet outside, Josef?" she asked with a slight sneer. "Why not inside? It's certainly not out of some fear of an unfamiliar location. For someone who didn't go to school here, you are surprisingly confident walking about the castle. How many times have you been inside it?"

Josef glanced over at Ginny, but an instant later he was staring at Valencia again. "Why did you pick the darkest spot in the courtyard? Is there some reason for that?"

"Is there some reason you haven't told her everything about your time here?" Valencia shot back. "You came here to watch her."

"I came here to keep her safe," Josef growled. "They wanted to take her and torture her until he came for her."

"And you did an excellent job, didn't you? Whenever you lost track of Harry, you came here. You knew how clever Harry was. You knew that he'd try to find a way to talk to her. He just had to find some time when you weren't watching her. So you made sure that never happened." The corners of her mouth turned up into a smile. "How did you get past the charmed staircase in her common room? Could you honestly say that you don't know what color her pajamas are? Or her underwear?"

Ginny's head jerked toward Josef instinctually. He wasn't smiling and he refused to look at her. She hadn't ever thought of that. How closely had he been watching her? She felt herself blushing.

"I suppose this was a mistake," Josef said through clenched teeth. "I thought we could both show some discretion. I suppose it would be best to go back inside. I'm sure Professor McGonagall would be very interested in some of the research I've been doing."

Valencia's smile disappeared. "Very well," she agreed with a hard voice. "Let's go for a walk."

Ginny followed them passively as they began walking out of the courtyard. The mood was tense and heavy, and Ginny still didn't understand exactly what was happening. She knew that Josef suspected Valencia of some role in the attacks, but she hadn't expected her to retaliate like she had. She still thought Josef was overreacting, but it seemed there was more to Valencia than she had thought.

In the distance, Ginny could see a few students walking about near the lake. Justinian's cabin was nearby, but there was no sign of him. All three of them took a few moments to search the area. There didn't seem to be anyone nearby and certainly no one close enough to hear what they were saying. Josef was the first one to speak. He asked the first question with a clear, confident voice.

"What is your real name?"

"What is yours?" she replied silkily. "We all know it's not Kantos."

Josef ignored her. "How old are you?"

Valencia ignored him and fired back another question: "How long did it take you to convince yourself that you weren't responsible for your family's deaths?"

"We're not here to talk about me," he replied sharply. Ginny had been surprised by the question, but Josef seemed to understand all too well. She could see the rage burning behind his eyes. "Why are you here?" he growled.

Valencia stopped walking and faced him. "Why are _you_ here, Josef?" she retorted. "What is it that you expected to find here? What did you think you would learn? Did you believe all your questions would be answered? Did you think any of them would?"

"If there is nothing to find, why won't you answer any of my questions?"

"Because you aren't asking the one which brought you here," she replied.

This made Josef stand up a little straighter. "Oh? If you know what it is, then why don't you answer it?"

"Because you wouldn't believe me," Valencia snapped. The anger in her voice was growing. "That's why we're out here, isn't it?" she asked as she stretched her arms out to her sides and stared up into the sky. "You couldn't trust me to answer honestly, so you thought up this charade. What other proof would you like? Should we go find a river to cross?"

"Shortly after you arrived at Hogwarts, hundreds of mirrors were destroyed," he began to explain. "Why did you destroy them?"

"I didn't destroy them," she insisted.

"It's just a coincidence, then?" he continued. "When they found Mira, she was holding a mirror. Perhaps it was more of a clue than we thought."

"Is that the heart of it?" she said with a soft laugh. "Is that all? Is that what it will take?" She pulled her wand from her pocket, and jabbed it at her other hand. With a fountain of silver sparks, a small mirror appeared in her hand. She held it at an angle so Josef could see her reflection in it.

"Does that make you feel better?" she asked bitterly. "Is that what you wanted? You just wanted that answer? Or were you looking for something more? Were you hoping to find some proof that this wasn't your fault?"

Valencia stalked forward, piercing him with her cold blue eyes. "It's just the same story all over again, isn't it? You're still trying to convince yourself that you're not responsible for the evil the Brotherhood does. You want to find someone else to blame for the attacks because then you'll be able to convince yourself that despite everything you did for Reynard and the Brotherhood, you were not to blame for these attacks."

"I did what needed to be done," Josef announced defiantly. "I chose to come here against the will of the Brotherhood. I protected her when no one else noticed the pain she was in. I helped Harry even when he wanted me dead. I saw what was happening to Grigore. It needed to be stopped. I stopped it."

"By having the Brotherhood kill him," Valencia commented, "You're getting quite good at that."

"It was the only option," he growled. "What was I supposed to do? Let him kill her? Harry would have been next. Then his friends and everyone who knew him. Would that have been better? Would it have prevented those attacks?" he asked, pointing back at the castle. "_I'm trying to stop this,_" he said, emphasizing each word. "If you're not part of it, why aren't you helping us?"

"Because I don't trust you!" she shouted. "You've manipulated so many people, I doubt even you remember who your allies are. Lies flow too quickly and too easily from your mouth for anyone to know just what your intentions really are." She reached up to straighten her hair a little, then folded her arms across her chest. Ginny could tell she was getting angry. Her lips were pulled tight and thin and her eyes were beginning to get bloodshot, making them look an even lighter blue than they truly were.

"There is one thing I do believe," she said in a calmer voice. "Something sinister is happening. It's not over. It will happen again, and I expect the victim will be even worse. I didn't attack Mira and Marius. I don't know who did, but if you're looking for someone suspicious who has a dark, violent past, then I think you've been pointing the mirror in the wrong direction." She spun the mirror in her hand and held it directly in front of Josef's face.

"Whatever my past might be," he said with threatening softness, "it doesn't answer my questions about who you are. I don't care if you trust me. I don't trust you. I know you're hiding something. I will find out what it is, and when I do, I'll make sure _everyone_ knows about it."

She stepped closer to him and dropped her voice to a harsh whisper. "Whatever you _think_ I might be hiding, remember this: I know more about you than you'll ever know about me. You can't intimidate me like you did with the Death Eaters. I've dealt with dozens of wizards like you. They're all gone. I'm still here. You'd better think twice before you interfere with me. It will cost you more than you can imagine."

"I have nothing to lose," Josef replied confidently.

"We'll see about that," she said with a malicious gleam in her eyes. "I wonder if you've told Ginny about your childhood."

From the corner of her eye, Ginny saw someone standing a little way away. She jumped a little and as spun around to see who it was, Josef and Valencia stopped talking to see what she was looking at.

"Mr. Kantos, I think it's time for you to take Ginny and leave," Justinian announced in a commanding tone.

"Justinian—" Valencia began in an exasperated voice, "—go away. This is a private matter. I don't need your help or your support."

"I'm well aware of that," he replied, "but I am in need of yours. Acromantulas were spotted on the edge of the forest. A couple of prefects are gathering the students, but I need someone who can handle a wand to escort them back to the castle." He pointed off toward the lake where Ginny could see a small clump of students gathering on the shore, well away from any of the trees.

"Very well," Valencia replied with a suspicious glare. She turned to smile at Josef. "I'm afraid I have business to attend to, Mr. Kuznetsov. Please pay my respects to your parents the next time you visit their graves. I would, myself, but they're so difficult to find without any markings at all."

The mirror Josef had been holding dropped to the ground and shattered. He stood shaking with fury. "How dare you—"

"Good bye, Josef," she interrupted. "Don't forget what I said." With that, she spun around with refined elegance and began slowly and calmly walking away from them.

Josef let out an enraged growl and turned his back her. As she walked off toward the students, Ginny noticed something bizarre. There was a patch of red skin on the back of Valencia's neck. It looked raw and irritated like a fresh burn. Before she managed to get too far away, Ginny spotted other patches. One was behind her ear and there seemed to be another on the back of one of her hands. Ginny was certain they hadn't been there when they left the castle.

She was about to point it out to Josef when she realized that Justinian was still standing and watching them. There was something odd about the look on his face. He was giving Josef an icy glare and seemed to be just about to say something, yet he didn't. It was as if he was waiting for something. Finally, Josef noticed he was still there as well and felt no such need for restraint.

"What do you want, Lynch?" he growled.

"I want you to walk away and forget about Valencia Desmoda," Justinian replied quietly.

"It seems you're going to have to learn to live with disappointment."

Justinian's response was cold and hard: "No. You're going to do exactly what you're told. You're going to walk out that gate and never bother her again." After a moment of tense silence, he added, "Please don't make me resort to threats. I'll never remember what I promised to do to you, and I hate to break a promise."

"Watch yourself, Lynch," Josef snarled. "I have powerful friends."

"If they were as powerful as you say, we wouldn't be here," Justinian said with a chuckle. Ginny threw a puzzled look at Josef, but he appeared to be hiding his own confusion. "Go back to Romania, Josef. Leave Valencia alone. If I find out that you've threatened her, or harassed her, or even just annoyed her, I'll show you what powerful friends are."

Josef rolled his eyes in boredom. "From one wizard to another," he began, "I would advise you to place your affections elsewhere. She is dangerous, and so am I. You don't know what you're getting into."

"No, Josef, you're the one who doesn't know what you're getting into," Justinian replied calmly, "but you should. Now please leave, I have evil creatures to destroy and I wouldn't want to mistake you for one of them."

Josef glared at him. "We'll speak again later," he said in a low voice.

"I expect we will," Justinian said over his shoulder as he walked away.

Josef paced about the area for a minute while Ginny simply stood still trying to understand everything that had happened. She thought they were just going to Hogwarts to give Josef a chance to see Mira for himself. Of course, he had much larger plans, though they seemed to have fallen apart. As he walked around her, he seemed to be struggling with a number of thoughts. Finally, he stopped and let out a deep breath.

"We should go," he announced. "There is a chance that Lynch wasn't lying about the acromantulas. Harry would kill me if I had to explain why we loitered around waiting to be attacked by giant spiders."

They said nothing at all as they walked to the main gate. When they got there, they found only one Auror waiting for them. They didn't ask where the other one was, and the Auror didn't offer any explanation. They all exchanged silent nods and continued about their business. Not until they were some distance from the gate did Josef finally speak again.

"I'm sorry," he said in a quiet voice. "That didn't go as I had planned."

"Well that's reassuring," Ginny replied, only partly in jest. "I would hope that you would have told me if you had actually planned to make two of the most useful people at Hogwarts hate you."

"It's not that," he said. "Let them hate me. I'd rather have them hate me than you —or Harry. They aren't the first. After the first one, it's easier to take. By now, I hardly notice, but I wouldn't want you to have to deal with that."

They walked on a little farther before he continued speaking. "I'm sorry that you had to learn about my parents like that," he said. His voice sounded full of remorse, and yet hollow, as if caused by pain long forgotten.

"It's alright," Ginny responded, unable to think of anything else. "I suppose everyone has something they keep hidden from everyone else."

Josef nodded slowly with a thoughtful expression on his face. "They weren't good wizards, my parents," he explained. "They treated me well, of course. Perhaps too well. I was their little prince and they had such hopes. They wanted everything for me and I was never in need of anything I truly wanted." He paused and looked up into the sky to watch the birds soaring lazily overhead.

"I don't know when I first started to realize it," he said with a touch of confusion. "I think I was too young to really remember it. The other children understood though. Their parents must have explained what my parents were —and what I was to become.

"At first I tried to pretend like I didn't really understand or that I believed everyone's parents were like mine. They would disappear some nights and not return until the next morning. Sometimes my father would leave for weeks at a time and return with a new scar or two. One night, I heard voices outside our estate. I went to the window and I saw my parents arguing with a group of wizards. They wanted to imprison my parents and take me away, but my parents refused. At the time I couldn't figure out why they would want to do that."

Josef slowed his pace until he had stopped and looked Ginny in the eyes. "My parents killed them all. There were six of them. I remember all of their faces. The first three died before the others could even reach their wands. One of them tried to run. The ground... it just opened up and swallowed him whole."

"I tried to tell my sister, but she didn't listen to me. She was three years older than me and told me that I should keep my mouth shut and be happy that our parents weren't weak like the wizards from the town." He looked up at Ginny as if hoping for some form of sympathy. "I... didn't know what to do. I— I didn't want to become that. I was only six years old but I suddenly understood. I started to see the way my parents treated others. I saw how the witches and wizards from the town shrank away from us when we passed. I began to realize how powerful they were and how much they had planned for me. No six year old should have to know such things."

Ginny didn't know what to say. "I— I'm sorry. I didn't know..."

Josef gave her a pleading look. "I knew they had to be stopped. The things they were planning... The things they wanted me to do..." He shook his head and stared down at the ground. "Every night I dreamed that the wizards would return to take me away from them. Then, one night they did, except they weren't the same wizards as before. They wore black and there were many more of them. They moved differently. They had purpose and determination. They weren't weak. I could see they were planning something, but they didn't seem to be doing anything at all. It was as if they couldn't quite figure out how to approach the house." Josef looked up at her, but his eyes were empty. "So I went downstairs and opened the door for them."

"When they were— When it was over, Aleksey came and spoke to me. I told him why I did it and he brought me to Grigore. He had been sent to kill me. Instead, he and Grigore stood in the corner and talked for some time. I sat quietly and waited for them. At the time, I didn't care if they were going to kill me or not. I only cared that I would never have to be what my parents had wanted me to become. When they returned, they offered to take me away and give me a new life. They promised to teach me how to make sure that wizards like my parents would never get what they wanted. Part of that meant making sure that there was never a need for them to gather such power. At the time, it seemed to make perfect sense."

Ginny stood in stunned silence for a moment as she tried to think of just how she was supposed to respond to such a tale. In many ways it sounded like the Malfoy family, yet something in Josef's voice told her that it had been much worse. His parents must have been truly evil if the Brotherhood had come to stop them. As far as Ginny had heard, the Brotherhood rarely stepped in to completely stop dark wizards.

"What about your sister?" she asked, thinking she needed to say something. "Is she a member of the—"

"No," Josef interrupted before she could finish. "No, she... None of us were supposed to be left alive." He sighed and began walking slowly toward Hogsmeade again. "As far as the rest the world knew, none of us were. Only a small number of them had seen me. Grigore and Aleksey memory charmed all of them."

"Aleksey? You mean Albert?" she asked, though she was fairly certain she had guessed correctly.

"His name is Aleksey," Josef replied firmly. "Albert is just a name he used to hide his identity from you and the Ministry."

"Perhaps," she said, "but that is how I know him." She preferred to think of him as _Albert_. Albert was a kind, old wizard who had befriended her as easily as anyone else she'd ever met. It was easier to think of Aleksey as another wizard completely. Though she had seen it with her own eyes, she still had trouble imagining Albert killing other wizards. Josef apparently had no such troubles.

"That night, Aleksey took me to live with him until Grigore could prepare everything," he continued. "For two weeks, I hid in the lower levels of his castle on the Volga. I never saw the sun. He kept me from all forms of communication. The only other person he allowed me to speak to was his father. A month later, he took me to Romania to meet with Grigore again. They gave me a new name and Grigore offered to raise me as a son and apprentice. He said I deserved to make my own destiny. I had no reason to refuse."

"I never had any idea," stammered Ginny. "Harry never said anything about—"

"Harry doesn't know," Josef commented flatly. "No one is supposed to know. I never told anyone else. None of the Brotherhood knew that I was the son of the Kuznetsovs. None of them knew where I had been before I arrived in Romania —not even Grigore. He didn't want to risk anyone finding out what they had done. I think he looked at me and saw himself. I think he hoped I would be able to correct the mistakes of his past."

"I... well, that's unfortunate, but—" Ginny stumbled about, trying to find a way to get back to one of his previous comments. "You said that no one is supposed to know. Obviously Valencia does. Does that mean that Albert—"

"_Aleksey,_" Josef corrected.

"—Yes— that Aleksey told her?" she finished. "That doesn't seem like him. Even if he thought he could trust her, I don't think he'd tell her something like that after nearly fifteen years of keeping it from his friends."

"No, I think you're right," he agreed. "Aleksey is trustworthy. He's proven that many times. No, I think if she got that information from anyone it must have been Grigore. His mind and will were weakening quickly in the last few months of his life. If this librarian is truly a part of this plot, then she might have been able to take advantage of that fact."

"You still think that Valencia is part of this?"

"I don't know," Josef replied distractedly. "I— I don't think it is important for the time being. There are more pressing matters. I need you to tell Harry that I fear he might have been correct about the Brotherhood. We might have been unwittingly helping whoever is responsible for this. There was a lot of confusion when we overthrew Grigore. Quite a few members have simply disappeared. They may have turned to Reynard."

"So what are we supposed to do?" Ginny asked. "We already suspect Reynard is the cause of this. That hasn't helped us to actually prove that he's responsible, and we'll never get any help unless we can either catch him doing something or prove to the Ministry that he was behind the attacks."

"That's why I was here," said Josef. He quickly explained that seeing Mira had only been an excuse to speak with Valencia and find out whether she had played some part in the attack. It was impossible to investigate Reynard when he was hiding behind the Department of Mysteries, but if they found the person who had been helping him at Hogwarts, it might be much easier.

"Well, it doesn't sound like it's going to be easy to investigate Valencia, either," offered Ginny. "If she knows as much as she says, she can cause quite a bit of trouble. I don't know how much power I'd have to stop it."

"Oh, there's no need to worry about that just yet," Josef said with the first traces she'd seen of a real smile all day. "You're right. Researching the librarian will be a delicate task, and we don't have time for caution right now. But Lynch..." he said with his voice trailing off into a chuckle. "Lynch doesn't know enough to understand the position he is in. If we want to learn about the librarian, Lynch will be the key."

Ginny was beginning to feel a little distressed. She liked Valencia, but there was something mysterious about her and she wanted the same answers Josef was looking for. Justinian, however, had never been anything but friendly and helpful. Even when she had accused him of horrible things, he had treated her with kindness.

"He is a fool, but he knows more than he should," Josef continued. "He knew we were speaking with her. He fabricated that warning —possibly by bringing the Acromantulas to the edge of the forest himself— just to end our discussion. He must have some idea what she refused to tell us. All we have to do is find out how he discovered it —or at the very least find something from his past that he doesn't want revealed. He seems to enjoy his employment here. However he learned about the librarian, I'm certain it isn't something the Headmistress would enjoy hearing about."

"And what if either of them finds out that you've been trying to investigate them?" Ginny asked. "I don't think Valencia was joking about telling everyone about you."

"Maybe you should be the one to do the investigating," he suggested.

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Me? What makes you think I'm going to be able to find anything? I might be more helpful if you thought they might have violated the international standards for broom twig length, but I doubt that's what you're talking about. I just don't have the resources to investigate a witch and wizard who are probably hiding their pasts."

"The Brotherhood has access to almost every single library in Europe," Josef commented lightly.

"Then why don't you tell one of the Brotherhood members to start looking for information?" Josef stopped walking and turned to face her.

"Perhaps I just did."

Ginny froze and stared at him. "Are you trying to _recruit_ me?" she asked with touch of anger in her voice. Josef remained calm, however.

"I'm not trying to do anything," he replied. "I'm simply making an offer. You don't need to decide this moment. I understand that you were not prepared to make this decision."

Ginny's jaw tightened as she glared at him. "How much time did Charlie have? How many times did he refuse you before he agreed?"

"Twice," Josef answered in an even voice, "but that was different. We—"

"You lied to him and you threatened him until he agreed!" she shouted. "You manipulated Hermione. You tricked Harry. And now you stand here in front of me and tell me that this is something you're offering, as if it was some grand gesture of generosity."

"It is all I have left to offer," Josef replied softly. "I have already given you everything else within my power."

Something in his voice made Ginny hesitate. He was being sincere. After what he'd told her minutes before, she realized that for the first time, he was being completely open with her. "Why would I want to join the Brotherhood?" she asked slowly.

"Because you want the same thing Charlie, Hermione and Harry did."

"And what would that be?" she prompted.

Josef's eyes stared into hers. "To save your life." Ginny started to respond, but he didn't let her. "I must be honest with you Ginny. I didn't want to believe that Harry could be right. I was certain that he was just being paranoid. To think anything else would—" He stopped and turned to look back toward the castle.

"I knew something was wrong with that girl from the first moment I saw her. I fear that it's even worse than you might guess. If she is telling the truth, what she's been through is unbearable. She should not be alive, and yet she is. That, in itself, is beyond troubling. I didn't believe Harry because what he suggested was impossible. Now I find myself believing in the impossible. I had hoped that the librarian—" He paused awkwardly, and selected different words. "Whatever part she is playing in all of this, it is but a small part of the darkness stalking that school."

"How would joining the Brotherhood help any of that?" she asked him, forcing him back on topic.

"You deserve to know what you're facing," he said. "We never had the time to tell Hermione, Charlie didn't believe me, and Harry was never interested. None of us ever understood what any of the stories meant. They were just a vague warning from the past. I know there are things which you haven't told anyone but Harry. I won't ask you to tell them to me, but perhaps you might use them to help us understand what is happening now. If you do that, I believe we can protect you."

"And if I don't?"

"If Harry is right, it probably won't matter," he answered. "But we have to try, and this might be your only chance." He stepped closer to her and gave her a pleading look. "There is nothing we ask of you. There are no promises or oaths to speak. Harry wouldn't even need to know about it just yet."

Ginny let out a long sigh and turned to continue walking toward Hogsmeade. "What sort of stories were you talking about?" she asked as casually as she could.

"You're accepting my offer?" he asked.

"I'm not deciding," she replied defiantly. "Tell me what you know."

* * *

After two trips through the Floo Network and a few short stretches of Apparation, Harry finally arrived outside the entrance to the Italian pitch where the match was being held. It was still early in the morning, but he felt tired and worn out. The pitch was only an hour from Venice, and most of the spectators had spent the night there rather than make the trip across Europe that morning as Harry had. 

He waited in line patiently as he checked and re-checked the roll of parchment he'd picked up a few hours earlier from Mr. Harrington. It contained a very official-looking message bearing the seal of the International Quidditch Federation. It wasn't a ticket, but it would be just as good. They had even given him a seat. Harry hoped it would be somewhere with a decent view, but realistically, he expected to be sitting in one of the much cheaper locations.

Along with the roll of parchment letting him into the match, Harrington had given him a small square of folded parchment with the instructions to keep it hidden, but easily accessible. There was nothing securing the parchment other than the fact that it had been roughly folded a couple of times. Harry knew that he could read it if he wished, but he thought it best to simply do his job.

_My job,_ he thought to himself with a silent chuckle. He never thought he would be delivering secret messages for the Ministry. Of course, he never thought he would have joined a secret society of wizards who would teach him how to best deliver such messages, either. He had thought of trying to disguise himself, but after a few minutes of thought, his training with the Brotherhood took over and he began to understand how it was supposed to work. He needed to be Harry Potter. That was probably what this Whitmore bloke would be looking for. It was easier to perform deliveries when one of the people was easily recognized. Few people would take notice of Harry, and once he delivered the message, Whitmore would simply melt into the crowd and disappear when the match was over.

"Sir!" a wizard called out, finally getting Harry's attention. "You ticket, please," he demanded gently.

Harry fumbled with the roll of parchment for a bit before handing it over. The wizard stared at it for a moment, then spotted the seal and raised his arm to call over someone with a little more authority. Harry stood silently, hoping that the small amount of anxiety he had wouldn't convince them that he needed to be searched. Of course, the roll of parchment said he shouldn't be, but when it came down to it, rolls of parchment weren't very good with wands.

As another burly looking wizard walked through the gate, Harry noticed a call going up the path toward the pitch. They were calling for more security wizards. Harry rolled his eyes and waited impatiently as the new wizard read over the message.

"You're Harry Potter, aren't you?" the man asked in an Italian accent.

"Yes."

"It doesn't say you're Harry Potter," he pointed out.

"Yes, well that's because it's just parchment," Harry replied quickly. "We thought about charming it to make it sing out my name, but we thought that might sound arrogant." In the back of his mind, Harry remembered Josef telling him that guards only searched people who acted like they were hiding something. So long as you seemed confident and comfortable, they rarely noticed. Of course, from the look on the man's face, Harry realized he might have gone too far.

"Ah, a clever one," the man sneered. "Do you know what they do to wizards who forge official documents?"

Harry smiled and thought to himself: _Confident, not irritating..._.

"No, I don't," he said in a clear voice. "It's never really been a concern of mine."

The man raised an eyebrow at him, pulled out his wand and began passing it over the piece of parchment. As he did that, a third man arrived. This wizard was wearing a very official looking uniform with a dazzling gold vest. He took one look at Harry, then one at the parchment with a frown he pulled out his wand and spoke a single word:

"_Eumorphus!_"

There didn't seem to be any effect, but the man's frown turned into a scowl immediately. With a growl, he tore the parchment from the other wizard's hands and pushed him aside. "I'm terribly sorry, sir," he apologized as he led Harry through the gate. "I was not informed that I was to expect an official visitor. Our entrance guards have apparently already forgotten how to check an official seal. The failure is mine. I hope you were not overly inconvenienced?"

"Er, no," replied Harry.

"Very good, sir," the wizard replied with a bow. He twirled his wand in the air and produced a quill. With a flourish he quickly scribbled a note on the bottom of the parchment and handed it back to Harry. "If _anyone_ else troubles you, show them that. I assure you it will end any future confrontations. Now, I'm afraid that I am a very busy man, and I must be off. Any of the security wizards are at your disposal, should you need them." The man bowed again, and before Harry could do the same, he had stridden off through the stream of wizards making their way to the pitch.

Harry turned to join them and hadn't walked more than twenty steps when he heard a familiar voice drifting through the crowd. He followed it and found Ron talking to a slender blonde witch at the side of the path. Harry couldn't see her face, but Ron's looked as stern as he'd ever seen it. As Harry neared the pair of them, Ron's expression broke into a wide smile.

"Harry!" he shouted. "You made it! I heard a report that someone was causing a problem at the gate and figured it was you." He quickly turned to the blonde witch and pocketed something he'd been holding in his left hand. "You go on, then," he scolded her. "Just don't cause any more trouble." The witch's hair swayed erratically as she nodded and ran off.

"What was that about?" Harry asked.

"She was trying to sneak fireworks into the match," Ron said with a smile. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small ball which had the snout and face of a pig.

Harry gave Ron a confused look. "Hey, I've seen those before. Don't your brothers make them?"

"Yeah," Ron replied proudly. "Scarlet Squealers. They're brilliant. Fred and George sell them for five Galleons a piece. I can get at least ten for it at the next match." Ron frowned at Harry's shocked expression. "Oh, right. Like you never broke any rules during that year hiding from all of us."

"Well I think I had more at stake than a possible five Galleon profit," Harry replied.

Ron simply shrugged. "Someone deserves to benefit. Speaking of that—" he whispered excitedly as he rummaged in another pocket. "Where are you sitting?"

Harry opened the parchment again to look at the seat assignment. "Section Forty-Eight South, Box Thirty-Two, Seat Seventeen."

"Forty-Eight South?" Ron repeated in disgust. "Wow, they really didn't want you to enjoy yourself, did they?" He pulled out a number of small slips of parchment and began paging through them. "Well, any of these are better than Forty-Eight South. Here's a Twenty-Two East," he announced, handing one of them to Harry. It was a match ticket. "Of course, it's Box Four and I helped a load of really old witches find their way to that box."

He searched about a little longer. "Oh, here we are. That little berk with the invisible broom. I knew he had a good seat." Ron held up another ticket which had been printed with golden ink. "Thirty-Five West, Box One," he announced triumphantly. "It's in the shade, it's got a great view of both sides of the pitch, and it's yours." With a smile, he handed the ticket to Harry.

"Where did you get all of these?" Harry asked.

"Contraband," Ron replied with a smile. "Spectators are not allowed to carry prohibited items past the gates. Punishment is confiscation of the item and removal from the grounds. The list is clearly posted at the gate."

"Ron!" Harry shouted as he held up the first ticket he'd given him. "Did you kick out some poor old witch from Italy?"

"She had a charmed bracelet!" Ron replied in his defense. "It could have been used to distract the Bludgers."

"You let that blonde witch off with a warning!"

"Yeah, but did you get a good look at her?" Ron whispered. "Well, it was even better from the front." Ron turned his head to look in the direction she had walked off. "Actually... It might have been just as good from where you were." He shrugged and turned back to Harry. "Oh well."

Harry let out a short laugh. "You wouldn't be joking if Hermione was here. She's pretty quick with her wand, you know."

Ron gave him a half-hearted smile. "Yeah, well, that one acted more like my girlfriend than Hermione has for the last two weeks. She'll barely let me touch her."

Harry suddenly felt uncomfortable. "Right, I don't think I need to know—"

"Relax, Harry. I'm not stupid," Ron whispered. "I'm not talking about that, I'm talking about everyday stuff. She's been avoiding me without really avoiding me, you know?"

"Still?" replied Harry. "She won't say why?"

Ron shook his head and gave a defeated shrug. "Just more of the same. She says she's cold." He paused to throw a nasty look at a pair of children running up the path. "We had a nasty row yesterday, but she felt guilty so she agreed to come to the match," he continued. "I thought it might be fun, you know. After the match we could go see Venice. Neither of us have anywhere to be tomorrow and there are loads of wizarding taverns around the city." Harry nodded passively. "Well, it _was_ a good idea," continued Ron. "You couldn't ask for a nicer day, and she showed up in a jumper. At least it's thinner than the others."

Harry frowned. Why was Hermione acting so strangely? "Maybe I should try talking to her," he offered.

"Please," Ron replied. "If you need to use any curses or charms, just don't let me know. Consider the ticket just the first part of your payment."

"About that," began Harry, "I don't think I can take it." Ron looked crestfallen. "I'll still talk to Hermione," he added quickly. "It's just that I'm here on business and if someone needs to find me..."

"Oh. Right," Ron replied. "Forgot about that." He lazily accepted the tickets back from Harry. "Too bad. Maybe I'll be able to do something next time. You know there's a match coming up in England. I think I'll be working that one as well."

"I'll look forward to it," Harry replied as he waved goodbye to Ron and started making his way to his mediocre seats in the stands.

About ten minutes later Harry arrived at his seat in the stands. He understood why Ron had seemed so unimpressed by it. It was, perhaps one of the least spectacular views he'd ever had of a Quidditch match. Forty-Eight South was directly behind the Italian goal hoops, and Harry's box was almost the lowest box in the tower. In some pitches the low boxes were some of the better seats, but this pitch had been built for matches in fog or bad weather where the players seldom went very high. The result was that Harry was little more than twenty feet off the ground and looking _up_ into the sky just to see the Italian Keeper.

Perhaps the only good thing about the seat was that he wasn't surrounded by a pack of old Italian witches chattering on about whatever it was that Italian witches chattered on about. However, soon after the match started, he began to think that some friendly conversation in the box might not be such a bad thing.

From the very start, the match was all but over. The Bulgarian chasers took control of the Quaffle and passed it about freely. The Italian chasers were powerless to stop them. The only thing that kept the match from being completely embarrassing was some impressive play by the Italian Beaters who kept the Bludgers flying so close to their own Keeper that he spent half his time dodging them.

However, it did have the useful side-effect of keeping the Bulgarian Chasers at a safe distance. Of course, this didn't really do much for the Italian team's score. After a lucky Bludger left two of Bulgaria's Chaser's dangling from their brooms, Italy did manage to score a goal. It didn't really threaten Bulgaria's lead, but it provided some needed encouragement for their Beaters.

A half-hour later, the match hadn't changed all that much. Leading by one-hundred and twenty points, it appeared that everyone except for the Italian Beaters and Keeper had accepted the inevitable outcome. Ron had been confident that Bulgaria would win, but no one ever enjoyed matches as lopsided as the one he was stuck watching. If he could just deliver his message, he'd be able to leave and end the suffering —for him, at least.

The only other escape would be an end to the match. Perhaps that was when he was supposed to deliver the message. Harry hadn't seen Viktor Krum or the Italian Seeker all match. With the sky as clear as it was, he could remember just how hard it was to spot the Snitch when it wasn't near the ground. And so long as the Snitch wasn't close to the ground, there was no chance of Harry seeing either of the Seekers.

It appeared that everyone else in his box was starting to lose interest in the game as well. A pair of wizards in the back had begun talking about the Russian team and their match against the Brazilian team. Another witch took a book out of a large bag and began reading it. Harry let out a long sigh and sat back in his seat.

"Hold on," someone said from somewhere behind him. "Are you Harry Potter?" Harry turned to see an older witch in deep blue robes staring at him with a broad smile. She spoke with a thick Scottish accent. "It is you, isn't it? Oh, if only my husband were here. He used to be an Auror, you know. Retired now," she whispered. "He always said he wanted to meet you."

"Harry Potter!" called out another wizard in a French accent. "Certainly not! Why, Monsieur Potter could buy this entire box."

"Why would he buy _this_ box?" commented another wizard. "He defeated the Dark Lord; he'd have more sense than to buy the worst box at the pitch."

"No, no. It's him, I'm sure of it," the old woman insisted. "Look, he's got the scar. I just saw him last month. It's him."

Suddenly, Harry noticed a young witch standing at his side. "Mister Potter, could you sign this?" she asked softly while holding out piece of parchment listing the players for the day's match. "My husband is a big fan of yours. I'm sorry, but he couldn't make it to the match and it would make him so happy to know that I actually met you." She held out her ticket and a small quill.

Harry shrugged and smiled at her. At least it was more interesting than the match. He took a moment to speak with the woman. After signing her ticket, the old woman came forward and asked if she could have a photo of the two of them together. It felt a little odd, but Harry agreed.

"Oh, er, hello there," a wizard introduced himself. He looked a little younger than Arthur Weasley. "I, er— Well, I used to read your story to my children. They... they'd think I was the greatest father if I could prove that I actually met you."

"Sure," Harry replied with a smile. He wasn't sure how meeting him made anyone a better father, but he could understand how a child might think so. "What would you like?"

"I, er... I..." the man stammered. "How about something simple. If you could just write a quick note." The man searched his pockets and pulled out a quill. "I... I'm afraid I don't have anything to write on. They took my ticket. I don't suppose you have anything..."

Harry took a moment to think. He really didn't have any spare parchment. He could always do some transfiguration, but that would only be temporary. "I'm sorry, no," Harry apologized. "I don't think I've got anything suitable."

"It wouldn't have to be big," the man pleaded. "Just enough for you to say, er... _To Julius Whitmore, thanks for a boring match, Harry Potter._"

Harry froze at the mention of the name. He looked up at the man, but his expression betrayed no sign of recognition. "Just that?" Harry asked quickly to cover up his hesitation. The man nodded happily. "Well, I think I might have an old scrap," Harry said as he reached into his pocket to pull out the message."

Carefully holding the folded scrap down so it wouldn't open, Harry scrawled the quick message on one of the blank sides and handed it to the man. He beamed and thanked Harry multiple times before returning to his seat. Harry continued to speak with the other witches and wizards around him for the next few minutes as he tried to recover from his surprise at the unexpected delivery of the message.

When he finally got a chance to turn his attention back to the match, Bulgaria had widened their lead to one hundred and forty points. It was as boring as ever and there had been no sign of the Keepers. The wizard next to him let out a dissatisfied grunt and stood up slowly.

"Well, I don't much see the point in watching the rest of this. In ten minutes it'll be all over, with or without the Snitch."

He left, taking the wizard sitting next to him. Another trio of wizards behind him stood up to do the same. Harry decided that there was little point in him remaining around either. He'd finished his job and the match wasn't worth watching.

He reached the ground and found that it provided a better view of the match than the horrible box he'd just left. At least outside he could see the Seekers as they circled and swooped about the sky. Harry took a moment to watch them. One of them was obviously leading the other. He didn't even have to see their faces to know that it was Viktor Krum in the lead. Harry still envied Krum's skill and grace on a broom, though Krum had twice mentioned that he thought Harry was just as good a flier as he was. Of course, that had been when they were reporting that he had died fighting Voldemort.

As he walked around the pitch on his way back to the main path, he spotted Ron standing near the base of one of the towers. Technically, spectators weren't allowed to leave the path, but even if Ron hadn't been there, what would any of them do? Force him to leave?"

"You were right about the seats," Harry announced as he walked up behind him.

Ron jumped a little and spun around. "Oh, it's you," he said in a relieved voice. "I was afraid I was going to have to yell at someone else."

"You didn't seem to mind earlier," Harry commented.

"How many people did you kick out this time?" asked a voice behind Harry. He recognized Hermione's voice immediately. She gracefully stepped around him to stand on the other side of Ron.

"Just four of them," Ron answered with a quick glance at Harry. Obviously he didn't want Harry to mention the blonde witch who'd slipped by with a warning. "But that was before the match." he explained. "After a half hour of this, I realized that the real punishment would be to let them stay."

"It's not that bad," Hermione said, wincing as the Italian Keeper took yet another glancing blow from a Bludger hit by one of his own Beaters. "It's sort of exciting as a display of defensive skill."

"Right, it's like cheering for ice to not melt," he said flatly. "Of course, given the choice, I'd prefer the ice. In this weather, it would be over faster."

"Speaking of that," Harry began, "isn't it a bit warm to be wearing a jumper?" Ron turned to glare at him but it was too late.

"Aren't you a bit overqualified to be a message-boy?" Hermione shot back at him. Even more so than her tone, Hermione's eyes told Harry that now was not the time for such things to be discussed.

"Well, it would have been worth it if this match would have been more exiting," Ron said, trying to gently steer the discussion to safer topics. "I really thought Italy would be more of a challenge. It's not even worth fighting any more."

"It's always worth fighting, Ron," Hermione insisted. "Italy's been showing some signs of improvement, I thought. Their Keeper hasn't missed a Quaffle for some time, and he managed to help them get their second goal."

Ron just rolled his eyes. "They've got twenty points and a Seeker who's doing everything he can just to keep up with Krum. It doesn't matter how good their Beaters or Keeper is. If Italy wins this match, I'll strip naked and play the bagpipes."

Just as Ron said that, Harry's eyes caught a pair of shapes dropping out of the sky at a nearly impossible speed. As they neared the ground, the one in the lead pulled up just in time, leveling out to rocket across the pitch, only feet above the grass. The largest shape was Viktor Krum. Trailing behind him was the Italian Seeker, and zipping along ahead of them was the glittering shape of the Snitch.

It was coming directly at them. Harry's instincts as a Seeker told him the Snitch would turn and shoot upward, even though it had not yet made any move at all. He hoped he was right. Krum was streaking toward them at a frightening speed, steadily increasing the distance between him and the Italian.

Suddenly —and just as Harry had predicted— the Snitch came to a halt, then shot directly upward into the blue sky. Krum sat back on his broom and began pulling it into a climb, when Harry saw his eyes lock onto the three of them watching him. He hesitated for a split second as his eye found Hermione, and when he finally managed to pull his broom up, he was drastically out of position. The Italian Keeper had been able to pull up more gradually, and he was now on a course to intercept the Snitch in just a few more seconds.

"Bloody hell," whispered Ron. Harry looked over at the score and saw the same thing Ron had. With one hundred and sixty points, Bulgaria had only a one hundred and forty point lead. Krum let out a rather unattractive howl as he pressed his broom to fly faster than it ever had before. It wasn't fast enough. With a clumsy lunge, the Italian Keeper's hand closed around the Snitch, earning him the stunned cheers of thousands of wizards.

From her spot next to Ron, Hermione patted him on the back. "You know, my uncle plays the bagpipes," she commented. "I bet he'd let you borrow them."

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

It's a bit of a transition chapter, but there's some interesting info there. Chapter 17 should be coming along shortly as well.


	17. The Herald

_This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

**CHAPTER 17**

**The Herald**

* * *

Harry stared out the window as the train rolled into Oradea Station. He couldn't remember just how many times he'd taken the journey before, but the familiarity was now colored by a certain amount of confusion. For two weeks following the Quidditch match outside Venice, Harrington hadn't said anything or sent any messages at all to Harry. He'd begun to think that Harrington was upset at him for the slightly clumsy way the message had been delivered. 

Then, without any warning at all, he'd received a message earlier that night while Ginny was supposed to be in Italy meeting with officials before the upcoming match. Harrington was in Ireland, but he wanted Harry to pick a message up from the Department offices and deliver it. There was no description of the message, where it was supposed to go, or even how Harry was supposed to pick it up. Of course, he'd been given no instructions about how to deliver the previous message and that hadn't turned out too badly.

After Apparating to the Ministry, Harry got little more than a nod of recognition from the security wizard at the gate. His visits to the Ministry were rare, and yet after his nearly disastrous attempt to reveal himself, he had never had anyone question his presence there, despite the time and manner of his arrival.

When Harry got off the lift and started walking toward the offices that made up the Department of International Magical Cooperation, he began wondering if Harrington had made some sort of mistake. The offices looked completely dark. However, as he turned the last corner he spotted the glow of a light coming from the receptionist's desk.

He had hoped the light meant that Carmilla was there. He'd only been into the offices a few times, yet Carmilla always made him feel comfortable and did an excellent job of answering any questions he had. However, it appeared that he wouldn't be that lucky this time. Instead of Carmilla, Harry found a stern-looking eagle owl waiting for him.

He cautiously approached the owl and took a small roll of parchment which had been tied around its leg. The moment it was untied, the owl leaped into the air and sailed off down the hall toward the lifts. The note was from Harrington of course, and it had the instructions for Harry's delivery as well as a small brass key. After reading the note, Harry scowled at it and read it a second time, wondering why he had been called down to the Ministry at that hour for such an apparently trivial task. Finally, with a resolved sigh, he took the key in one hand and used the other to stuff the parchment in one of his pockets.

He continued down the corridor past Harrington's office and the rows of cubicles where most of the department did its work. Technically, one of them belonged to Harry, but he had never taken enough interest to even ask where it was. As he turned the next corner he was forced to fumble for his wand. The corridor was unlit and nearly impossible to navigate in the dark.

He walked slowly, pointing his wand left and right as he walked, searching for his destination. He could have found it easily in the light, but everything looked different at night. Finally, he came to another corner which looked familiar. He pointed his wand up at the door and found a golden name plate which declared that he had found what he was looking for:

_EVELYN SIBLEY_

He carefully slipped the key into the lock and turned it, hoping that there was no other curse placed on the door to discourage unwanted guests. He was rewarded with a sharp _click_. He warily reached for the doorknob and turned it slowly.

The door opened slowly letting out a puff of stale air. He entered quietly, holding his wand out in front of him in an attempt to find a lamp or light source. Finding nothing obvious, he focused the light from his wand at the floor and attempted to walk through the cramped office without disturbing the clutter of books and old rolls of parchment which had collected there.

He had been trying to be as quiet as possible. There was really no reason other than the fact that other than him, the entire department was utterly silent. A year of hiding had given him a somewhat irrational fear of being the noisiest thing in the area. He had succeeded in avoiding any unnecessary sound all the way to the bookshelf Harrington's note had directed him to.

He ran his wand across the spines of the large tomes there, looking for one in particular. As he searched, he ran across a number of titles which sounded familiar. The more of them he saw, the more he started to understand what was going on. Evelyn was researching Romania, probably trying to understand everything that Ginny and Harry wouldn't tell him. From the look of Evelyn's office, she hadn't been very successful at finding much.

Then he spotted the book he'd been sent for: _Masters of Dark Magic_. Harry took a moment to open the book and check to be certain that it was the one Harrington had described. The note had given Harry specific instructions to find that exact copy of the book and deliver it to Evelyn at Oradea Station in Romania. He couldn't really imagine what information it might have that would be useful to Evelyn, so he assumed that it was meant as a message of some sort. Perhaps Harrington meant it as a warning for her. Josef had taken a number of opportunities to emphasize the danger that Harrington was putting Evelyn in by sending her to Romania.

Harry shrugged and slipped the book into the travel bag he'd brought with him. After buckling it closed, he turned to find his way back out of the office. Before he'd taken two steps, he heard the soft _thump_ of one book falling onto another. He froze and turned back toward the bookshelf just in time to see a large book slowly sliding off its shelf. Harry's Seeker reflexes took over and his arm shot out just in time to catch the book as it fell.

He closed his eyes and let out a sigh of relief. As he slowly stood up, he heard another noise. He looked up and saw half a shelf of books slowly leaning over on their sides to fill in the empty space left by the book Harry had removed. Some of them were simply tipping peacefully. Others weren't quite so stable. A number of books closest to the vacant space had been pushed to the edge of the shelf and were balanced precariously on the edge. A book on the far edge shifted slightly, and suddenly a number of books began slipping down off the shelf.

Harry dropped the book he had caught and lunged to try and stop the avalanche of books, but there was only so much he could do. He caught one, but after the first few fell, the others were quick to follow. The sound of books crashing to the tiled floor echoed in the room, filling Harry with disgust at his lack of attention.

After the last book fell, he picked up his wand and started to think about how he might fix the mess he created. It was dark, and he needed his wand to collect the fallen books. He searched around the room a second time, this time finding a tiny candle on the far wall. He lit it, and with just enough light to make out the shape of the shelves, he slowly replaced each book, one by one. He had replaced almost half of them when the room was suddenly filled with a blinding white light.

"Drop your wand!" ordered a harsh voice.

Harry winced in pain as he closed his eyes. For once, he truly hadn't been doing anything wrong, so decided it best to simply do as he was told. He dropped his wand and turned around with his arms held away from his body.

The light died suddenly. "Harry?" he heard Ginny cry out. "What in bloody hell are you doing?"

Harry relaxed his arms and rubbed his eyes, trying to help them adjust to the darkness again. He knelt down and felt about blindly along the floor. "Well, now I'm looking for my wand," he replied flatly. "A little bit of light might help."

Ginny muttered something and Harry heard the sound of a number of candles flaring to life above him. He stopped looking for his wand long enough to see that a large chandelier was hanging from the ceiling of the room. Properly lit, it filled the room with a soft yellow light. His wand was lying next to a few rolls of parchment just beyond his left hand.

"You know, Evelyn would kill you if she knew that you were sneaking about her office," Ginny told him.

Harry frowned and flicked his wand and the rest of the fallen books. "I wasn't sneaking," he insisted. "Harrington told me come here. I have a key."

This seemed to catch Ginny's attention. "Harrington gave you a key?" she asked as she turned her wand on the books as well. "So, why did he want you to sneak about Evelyn's office?"

Harry quickly told her about the instructions he'd been given but they didn't do much to relieve her of her suspicion. "He wants you to give her a _book_? What's she going to do with it? Is it a spellbook or some sort of book of maps?"

"No," Harry replied as the last book slipped into place. "It's just an ordinary book. It's either some sort of sign or there's another message hidden inside it. I guess I'm not terribly worried about it. It's not as though any of these messages are terribly dangerous. I think his main concern would be Reynard finding out that he's interested in Romania."

"Is that why he wanted you to pick it up at this hour?"

"I guess," Harry replied as they walked back toward the door. "Either that or it's something really important. Either way, it's probably a good idea to do it when no one else is around." Harry paused for a moment while Ginny extinguished the chandelier.

"So... why are _you_ here?" he asked her. "I thought you said you were going to be in Italy?"

"Oh, yes, er—" she stammered for a bit. "Well, I _was_ in Italy, of course, but there really wasn't anything much to do, you know?" she explained in a rambling voice. "I mean, they weren't really expecting that they'd be playing in the match on Saturday and so they had a few questions which had to be answered and there were a few really small things like trying to arrange seats for some of the more influential families and that sort of thing but nothing really major that would warrant staying there all night."

"Right," Harry said confusedly. "So why are you _here_?"

"Oh, yes, that," she said with a look over her shoulder. "Well, I, er—" She frowned and ushered Harry out of the room as she closed the door. "When I was done, Josef found me."

"He went to Italy?"

"He said he needed to talk to me," Ginny said as Harry locked the door with the key.

"So what are you doing here?"

"Talking to Josef," she answered. Harry looked over her shoulder and saw that the door to her office was now open and a flickering golden light was spilling out across the corridor. "You can come talk to him if you like," she offered. "I think we were almost done. I'm sure he'd go to Romania with you if you like."

"No, that's okay," Harry replied. "I don't expect Harrington would be comfortable with Josef knowing about some message being sent to Evelyn —even if he doesn't know what it means— and I doubt the Brotherhood would appreciate Josef getting too wrapped up in Ministry business."

"Oh," Ginny said with a nod. "I guess you're right."

"Thanks for the help with the books, though," Harry said with a lopsided smile. "Say hello to Josef for me. With any luck, I should be back early tomorrow morning." Harry leaned forward and gave Ginny a quick kiss.

She smiled warmly. "Good luck, Harry. I'll see you soon."

* * *

Harry's thoughts were brought back to the present as the train shuddered and came to a stop at Oradea Station. He stayed in his seat, giving the Muggles some time to make their way off the train. Once quite of few of them had left and created something of a crowd on the platform, Harry stood up and slung his travel bag over his shoulder. 

He stepped down onto the platform and instinctively began searching for the Brotherhood members who normally kept an eye on the station. It was one of the few stations that outsiders could use to get into Romania and, for as long as Harry could tell, the Brotherhood had watched and recorded all wizards who passed through the station.

He still hadn't spotted them by the time he reached the arched exit and that fact felt somewhat troubling to him. He knew they had to be there somewhere. He turned aside and knelt down to pretend as though he was tying his shoe, giving him a little more time to search the platform for Brotherhood members. He stood up a minute later after finding no sign of them. There were only a few possible explanations.

The first and most obvious was that he was out of practice. While this was possible, Harry dismissed it fairly easily. The Brotherhood didn't have any pressing need for secrecy at the moment and it had been only two months since Harry had stopped running from the Brotherhood. The next possibility was that there simply wasn't anyone to find. However, this was even more difficult to believe. The Brotherhood might not have felt as threatened as they had in the past, but Josef certainly would have told them about Evelyn. That would have been enough to keep a few members around.

The only other possibility was the most worrisome of the three. If there were members there to watch the station, Harry might not be seeing them because they were purposefully hiding from him. That would imply that not only did they already know he was coming, but that they had some reason to keep their presence a secret from him. If the Brotherhood had stopped trusting him, it might be time for him to stop trusting them as well. If Josef was wrong and they had been helping Reynard —willingly or not— then it would only be a matter of time before they turned on him again.

Harry frowned inwardly as he walked down the corridor, looking for the crack in the wall that marked the hidden entrance to the wizarding area of the station. He found it a moment later, but there still wasn't any sign of wizards watching it. He slipped through and navigated the corridors on the other side slowly and cautiously, constantly checking for anyone who might be following or watching him. The only other person he saw was an old witch making her way back toward the platform with a mountain of luggage on a cart.

Harry knew where he needed to go to find Evelyn, but he wanted to make one extra stop on the way. He turned down one particularly narrow corridor and made his way to the same fireplace that he, Ron, Hermione and Ginny had used to get to the Gatehouse at Orasul-de-jos. He half expected what he found there: absolutely nothing. There was no guard, no Brotherhood member, and no locked doors. Something bizarre was happening. He had a sudden desire to talk to Evelyn Sibley.

He walked into the small pub where Evelyn was supposed to be waiting for him. Instead of providing some pretense for his visit, he simply walked up to the wizard behind the bar and asked for Room Fourteen. The man gave him an odd look, then directed him to a set of stairs leading down and away from the main room. Harry followed it and found a wide hall lined with richly carved doors.

This was one of the few pubs or taverns supplying rooms to sleep in that Harry had never used. It was never worth it. The place was normally crawling with Brotherhood members passing through on their way to places all across Europe. It had been a danger to Harry and it would be a danger to Evelyn if she ever found what she was looking for. Harry stopped outside Room Fourteen and knocked quietly at the door.

Seconds later, he heard the _click_ of the door unlocking, then a soft creaking noise as it opened slowly. The shape of a young woman was standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the light of a number of candles in the room behind her.

"Good Evening, Harry," Evelyn whispered in greeting. "Come in, quickly. It's not safe to linger about." Harry did as she said and slipped through the opening then waited patiently as she checked the corridor for anyone who might have seen them before closing and locking the door.

Once he was in the room and able to see her properly, he was shocked by her appearance. Her hair was straight and smooth, lying in a silky, lustrous sheet running down the back of her neck and curling elegantly under her jaw. She was dressed in a bright red dress, somewhat reminiscent of the more modern styles of dress robes, but without any sleeves or straps to hold it up. In their place, Evelyn wore long red gloves of red satin. As she turned around to smile at him, he found himself smiling back.

"Is that your idea of keeping a low profile," he asked with a friendly tone.

She turned up her nose playfully. "I am no peasant," she said with mocking arrogance. "I am a wealthy aristocrat in search of a new castle to purchase for those holidays when I wish to escape from the rest of the world." She let out a short laugh and flashed a clever smile.

"And no one has noticed you?"

"Are you mental?" she replied. "Of course they've noticed me. How could any wizard with two working eyes fail to notice me?" She posed seductively, putting one hand on her hip and letting the other rest across the top of her head. With the candle light shimmering across the shape of her body in red satin, Harry had to admit that it would take quite a bit of effort to miss her.

She raised an eyebrow and smiled crookedly. "Of course, that doesn't mean any of them have a clue about who I really am or why I'm here," she explained. "You'd have to be insane to think that someone who looks like me would be up to anything extraordinary." Harry nodded and admitted that she was absolutely correct.

Without wasting any time, Harry put his travel bag down on the bed and quickly removed the book Harrington had asked him to deliver. He handed it to Evelyn with as much formality as he could manage at that early of an hour. Night had past by during his travel and the sun was already nearly rising.

Evelyn took the book and gave an approving nod. "Thank you very much, Harry," she said as he closed his bag up again.

"I hope you understand why Harrington asked me to send that to you."

"Oh, I'd say that it means quite a bit to me," she commented as she gently laid the book down on a nearby table. "I do hope you didn't have too much trouble getting it for me."

"Oh, no," he assured her. "Harrington had it all laid out." He took a few minutes of their time to briefly explain what had happened with the shelf and apologize for any disorganization it might have added to her life. She simply shrugged it off and told him that he hadn't done anything wrong. When he tried to hand the key back to her, she politely refused.

"Keep it," she said softly. "I don't mind at all. I trust you, Harry. You know we both work for the same wizard now, don't you? We really should be able to trust each other."

"What about you and Ginny, then?" he asked before he had been able to stop himself.

Evelyn shook her head and sighed. "Of course, Ginevra... I trust her," she insisted, "I really do. We just... got off on the wrong foot, I think. I would have offered her a key to my office a long time ago, but I don't think she would really understand the gesture."

"No, I think you're right about that."

His comment seemed to sober Evelyn a little bit. "I... I'm sorry that you have to get stuck in the middle of it. Ginny's a bright girl and an excellent witch, but once she's made up her mind, it sure is difficult to change."

Harry nodded in agreement. Perhaps that was all there had ever been between Ginny and Evelyn. When they first met Ginny had been in a decent amount of stress. Perhaps Evelyn just hadn't made the right first impression. In the end, Harry kept the key and promised that he would consider talking to Ginny about giving Evelyn a second try. That seemed to make her surprisingly happy.

"I really should get going," Harry said with a yawn. "I haven't gotten any sleep yet and the train back to Vienna is leaving soon. Maybe I can get a couple hours before I have to take the Floo back to London."

"You're going to take the train back?" she asked "Why not take the Floo directly. There is a fireplace not far from here. There used to be a bloke guarding it but he hasn't been at his post the last couple days."

Harry paused to look at her directly. "Do you know where he went?" he asked her. "Is he still here? Did he find some other way of watching the fireplace?"

"I don't really know," she answered. "I just know that it works. I picked this dress up from Bremen just last night by using it."

"Right," he said. He ran his hand through is hair and tried to understand what that had meant. "Maybe I will do that. I could really use the sleep."

"Well then, I suppose I should wish you well. Good night. It was great to see you, Harry," she said, "and thank you very much for getting me that book. That was exceptionally nice of you."

"It's what Harrington pays me for," replied Harry. "I deliver messages." He waved kindly at her and began walking for the door.

"Before you go, I have a message for you," Evelyn called out.

Harry paused. "But how— What message?"

"There is a Quidditch match in western Cornwall this Saturday," she told him in a light tone. "I believe your friend Ron will be working at it." Harry nodded and waited for her to get to the message. "Since it is being hosted by the Ministry of Magic and the Department played such an instrumental role in the planning and support of this year's tournament, Harrington has asked all Department employees to show up three hours before the match to meet the teams and officials."

"And I'm expected to show up as well, is that it?" Harry asked.

Evelyn smiled and let out a short laugh. "Harry," she said in a gently encouraging voice, "Ferdinand might have hired you as a courier, but we all know that you're much more than that. Yes, Harry," she announced clearly, "I'm sure that Ferdinand would like to see you there. I suspect he'd trade the presence of his courier for any three of his senior assistants."

"I suppose that means I should show up."

"That's probably wise," Evelyn said. "I suppose I'll see you there then. Goodbye, Harry."

* * *

Harry and Ginny arrived together at the gate outside the pitch in western Cornwall. Harrington and Mrs. Reading were standing nearby along with a collection of other wizards from the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Harrington was busy talking to a number of wizards including a pair of Aurors and one of the red-cloaked guards which Britain and various other countries had gathered in the months before the start of the tournament. Instead, Mrs. Reading came over to greet them. 

Harry didn't feel offended by the fact that she was mostly there to speak with Ginny. It was actually kind of nice. For once, he wasn't the person everyone wanted to talk to. He stood next to Ginny and enjoyed the feeling as Mrs. Reading explained that everything appeared to be worked out, but that she might need Ginny's help if anything important came up.

Ginny agreed happily and Mrs. Reading left them to go speak with another pair of wizards who just arrived. They stood around waiting for a few more minutes as the last few wizards Apparated in. The last to arrive was Evelyn. She was wearing a thick brown cloak with a hood pulled up over her head. Harrington frowned at her but said nothing.

Once they were all assembled, a group of guards arrived to escort them to the pitch. The walk was longer than Harry expected. The towers around the pitch were much larger than he realized they were. When they finally reached the pitch, they found both of the Quidditch teams and a complement of wizards from both countries waiting for them.

Harrington and a plump wizard from the Department of Magical Sports and Games took a moment to make a few pointless and overly formal statements to the groups, then everyone from the Ministry formed a queue and began greeting the wizards from both of the countries. Harrington had neglected to mention Harry's presence or fame, and Harry found that he was not bothered at all. A few of the wizards recognized him, including quite a few of the Italian players and representatives. Some went so far as to thank him, despite the fact that Hermione's presence had probably done more to distract Krum than Harry's had.

After meeting everyone, there were more announcements and some rather boring discussion that Ginny was reluctantly pulled into. When it was all over, Mrs. Reading slipped off to find Harry and Ginny and told them to leave before someone came up with some reason for them to stay. With the match only two hours away, the two of them gladly obeyed.

A steady stream of spectators was starting to form at the gate and had worked its way halfway up the path to the pitch. He and Ginny made their way to the quietest end of the long row of vendors along the path and waited for Hermione to arrive. She had agreed to meet them an hour before the match so they would have time to meet with Ron before the match. He assured them it would be worth their time.

* * *

"Where were we supposed to meet them?" Harry asked as Ginny led him and Hermione down a deserted path which wound down a hill into a dense patch of trees. He looked back over his shoulder at the large stone towers which surrounded the pitch and wondered why they were still walking away from them. 

"Ron said they'd be outside the Guards' Tent," answered Ginny.

"Wouldn't you think that would be closer to the pitch than, say, the Butterbeer Storage Shed? You know we passed that a while back."

"Yes, Harry, I specifically remember you complaining about it," she replied with a disgusted laugh. "Don't complain to me. No one asked my opinion about where the Guards' Tent should be. To be honest, we never really needed them. We only have them because Tarus wanted them. Of course, I can't really say anything since I'm the one who asked for them."

"Well, it kept Ron from moping about, or having to work for your brothers."

Ginny winced. "Right, I guess there is that. Maybe Tarus wasn't all bad."

As they passed under the first trees of the dense thicket, Harry was able to see a dark tent sitting in a small clearing just a little further down the path. A number of people were milling about near the entrance, all of them wearing the same shade of crimson except one of the shorter witches, who was wearing a heavy brown cloak. Harry knew it had to be Hermione. A moment later, a taller wizard next to her turned around and waved to them.

"Harry!" Ron shouted. "There you are. We were wondering if they'd stopped you at the gate again."

"They did, but only to take pictures," Harry replied with a shallow smile. A few of the guards around Ron turned to look at Harry, but there were no noticeable stares, and despite their otherwise cold response, Harry felt more comfortable than he had on the pitch.

They really didn't have all that much time to relax. Ron and the rest of the guards were busy discussing something which looked rather important, leaving Harry, Hermione and Ginny standing awkwardly nearby. Ron's voice was drowned out by a number of other wizards, but he seemed to be negotiating with one of the older guards. After a minute or more, the group of guards broke, and they all began walking off in pairs or groups of three. Ron dodged the clumps of wizards to make his way over to them.

"Well, they're not the best seats," he said disappointedly, "but they're better than most." He held up three tickets in his hand. "Tower Two, Level One," he announced. "I tried to get Tower One, but... Well, they don't seem to care who my friends are." He shrugged and handed over the tickets. "Waste of seats, if you ask me," he grumbled. "Anderssen's grandmother can barely see the end of her cane. She couldn't tell the difference between Tower One and the equipment closet. It's quieter, but she's deaf as a post, too."

Harry took the tickets and stared at them for a moment. "How many old women were removed from the match to get us these seats?"

"Relax Harry," Ron comforted him as he began to walk away. "They're from a group of wizards who canceled after Romania lost."

Harry, Ginny and Hermione waited for all the guards to walk off before leaving. The guards appeared to be in a hurry to get to the pitch and Harry didn't really feel like making a nuisance of himself. When the path was clear, the three of them began their trek to the tower where they could watch the match.

Somehow, walking back felt as though it took even longer than walking to the tent. It was made even worse by the fact that the rest of spectators were trying to get to their seats as well. Long before they reached Tower Two, they were forced to slow down and join the stream of people meandering up the hill to the pitch.

It became even slower once everyone realized that the famous Harry Potter was walking with them. Hermione rolled her eyes and tried to ignore them, but Ginny smiled graciously and linked her arm in Harry's, pulling him gently through the crowd. She would pause occasionally to greet the odd person who wished to say something to Harry, but she kept pressing him forward. They moved forward slowly but persistently, until they reached the base of Tower Two.

The tower itself was made almost entirely of stone, unlike the seating for most Quidditch matches. The pitch at Cornwall was one of the oldest in Britain. The only real changes to the pitch were the addition of wider wooden stairs on the outside of the towers, allowing the older set of stairs inside the towers to be used almost exclusively by the hundreds of witches and wizards who sold food and trinkets to the spectators. The wooden stairs being used by the majority of people in front of Harry, Ginny and Hermione had been placed so that a single guard could control entrance to both the internal and external staircase. In this case, the wizard guarding the stairs looked large enough to guard three or four staircases.

"Tickets?" he grunted as they shuffled forward. Harry pulled out the ticket Ron had given him and offered them to the guard. He stared at it for a second, then it with his wand, leaving a smoking black check mark where the tip touched the parchment. "Keep your ticket if you plan on leaving your seat, but don't go loitering about for no reason. The Ministry of Magic hopes you enjoy the—" The guard stopped suddenly as he looked up and saw the three of them.

"Hold on," he growled. "You weren't supposed to be in this tower."

"My best mate is one of the guards," Harry began explaining. "He gave us these instead. The previous owners decided not to show up. If there's a problem, I assure you I can pay for—"

"No, there's no problem," boomed the man's voice. "I'm afraid Cordelia Reading has been looking for you."

"Cordelia Reading?" Harry replied in confusion. "What does she want with me?"

"Not you. She's looking for _her_," the guard replied with a nod toward Ginny. "There is some problem with the Irish team. I think one of the referees was born in Italy. It sounded fairly urgent."

Ginny let out a weary sign apologized to Harry and Hermione for having to leave them. The guard quickly marked her ticket and gave her some quick instructions on how to find Mrs. Reading. "I'll be back as quickly as I can," she told them, then strode off across the pitch toward the locker rooms.

"As for you two," the guard said, "you can take the service stairs." With a stout arm, he pushed open the heavy wooden door leading to the stairway inside the tower. "It'll be faster for you, and I won't have to worry about the rest of this lot clogging the path while they gawk at you."

Harry thanked him and waited patiently as Hermione fished her ticket from her pocket. As she held the ticket for the guard to mark, Harry spotted something odd about her hands. Her fingernails looked much pinker than he'd ever remembered them. She seemed to notice him looking at them and once the guard was finished, she immediately plunged them back into the pockets of her robes. The guard nodded toward the door and Harry and Hermione quickly walked into the tower, letting the door close behind them.

The interior of the tower was certainly not as bright as the exterior, but it was not nearly as dark or shadowy as Harry had expected. There were torches every few feet and a collection of small windows placed in specific locations to bathe the interior staircase with as much light as possible.

The stairs climbed the inside of the tower in a series of flights running along each of the four walls, spiraling toward the top. At each corner there was a larger landing to allow those climbing the stairs a place to stop and rest. Harry had been used to climbing stairs and had no problem at all with this tower, but Hermione seemed to be getting winded fairly quickly. Halfway to the level of their seats, and two flights below the lowest level, she stopped and rested against the wall. Harry waited patiently, but his mind returned to what he'd seen minutes earlier.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure," panted Hermione, "as long as it's not about Quidditch."

Harry tried to think of some way of asking what he wanted. Some instinct told him that he should be cautious about how he asked it.

"Did you paint your nails?" he asked in casual, curious tone.

Hermione stiffened. "Yes. Is there a problem?"

"No," Harry replied immediately. "You— I've just never seen you do that before."

"And why the sudden interest in how I look?" Hermione shot back in an accusatory tone.

Suddenly Harry got an odd feeling. Why was she acting so strangely? "Is there something I'm missing, Hermione? Is there some reason why you painted your nails?"

Hermione recoiled slightly. "You mean, did I do it for you?" she asked with a hint of disgust.

"No, I just—"

She advanced on him quickly, forcing him to retreat back to the railing. Hermione pulled her left hand out of her pocket, and held it up in front of Harry's face so he could see her finger nails

"Are you happy? Do you like that?" she spat. "Is that what does it for you? Painted nails and blue satin?" She said as she stepped uncomfortably close to him. "Is that it? Were you in the mood for a quick snog before the match?"

"No, I—" Harry protested as Hermione pushed him back against the railing.

"Are you certain?" she asked forcefully. She stepped even closer, pressing her body against him. "We could have a go right here, you know. Nice and private, isn't it? Of course, these robes are a little heavier than the last set," she whispered, "but I'm sure that won't stop us," she whispered. Her eyes narrowed and her voice took on a disturbing tone. "I might even be wearing special knickers, just for you. There's only one way to find out, isn't there?"

"Hermione, stop," Harry said, as he tried to push her away.

"What's the matter, Harry?" she replied with a scowl. "Not your cup of tea? How _nice_ that you actually get to have an opinion on that."

"What's going on, Hermione?" Harry asked. "Are you alright?"

"No, Harry, I'm not alright!" she shouted as she backed herself into the corner and folded her arms tightly across her chest.

Harry cringed at the echoes within the tower. He stepped closer to her and lowered his voice in an effort to comfort her. "What's wrong?"

"The same thing that's been wrong for the last five weeks."

"Five weeks?" Harry replied. It didn't take long for him to remember what had happened five weeks earlier. "I— I don't know what we're supposed to do about that. I thought we were just going to forget it ever happened."

Hermione let out a bitter laugh. "Oh yes, that would've been a brilliant plan, wouldn't it?"

Harry reached out to hold Hermione's shoulders, but her eyes flared with some wild emotion as she pushed his arms away from her. Harry frowned and tried to understand what had caused all of this. "I'm sorry, alright?" he said softly. "You were right, though. That night... Something happened. I don't know what it was, but that _wasn't us_. It wasn't you and it wasn't me."

"No," she said with a wavering voice. "No, you did this, now you have to fix it."

Harry felt a flicker of anger building in his chest. "Hold on," he said as he stared into her eyes. "Don't go blaming this on me. You think I _wanted_ that? If you think it was so easy to stop, why didn't you? Don't forget, Hermione, you kissed me first. If—"

Pain exploded through the entire left side of his face, filling his vision with sparkling lights. He stumbled backward for a moment, then regained his balance. As the spots faded, he looked back at Hermione and saw her staring at him furiously. Her left arm was still pressed against her chest, but her right hand was curled into a tight fist.

"What the bloody hell was that for?" cried Harry as he held his hand against the side of his face.

"_Fix it,_" growled Hermione.

"Fix what?"

Hermione turned and began walking up the stairs. "You fixed Mira," she called back over her shoulder. "You'd better fix this, too."

* * *

Harry decided that it was best to simply let Hermione walk off ahead of him. He needed time to think and perhaps a minute to regain his balance. His throbbing head couldn't understand exactly why his questions about her fingernails had anything to do with what had happened in the twin's joke shop the night of the ceremony. Whatever it was, to say that she was sensitive about it was a ridiculous understatement. 

He eventually continued climbing up the stairs. Just before he reached the balcony where his seat was, he heard the crowd erupt with cheers. That meant that the players had emerged from the locker rooms and were probably preparing for their introductions. It also meant that Ginny had probably been successful in calming the Irish team's fears and that she would be along shortly.

He walked out onto the balcony, earning himself a number of covert stares. There were mercifully few seats, and most of the spectators appeared to be far too wealthy to bother with anything as dull as smiling or waving at him. Instead they whispered behind their hands. In the end, it wasn't all that much worse than having strangers hug him or take his photo.

Hermione was in the front row of seats, near the far corner. There were two empty seats between her and the wall and Harry assumed she had meant them for him and Ginny. As he made his way to the front of the balcony, she gave no indication that she even saw him arrive. He carefully walked across the row toward his seat. He reached Hermione, and paused to see if she would say something or simply acknowledge his presence. When she didn't, he let out a sigh and tried to step around her. She stuck her leg out suddenly, blocking his path.

"Not a word, Harry," she whispered threateningly. He gave her a puzzled look and she finally raised her eyes to look into his. "You're not to say a single word about our conversation to Ron or Ginny."

"Or you'll hit me again?" questioned Harry.

Hermione glared back at him. "No Harry," she replied icily. "It'll be worse than that. You're still my friend. I don't want it to come to that. Please don't force me to do it."

Hermione lowered her leg, allowing him to pass. For both of their sakes, Harry opted to sit against the wall, leaving the center seat for Ginny. It simply didn't seem like a good idea to be any closer to Hermione than he needed to be. She didn't complain. The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes before Harry saw Ginny appear at the top of the wooden stairs.

Hermione smiled brightly and waved her over to the open seat. Ginny smiled at Harry and apologized for having to leave them earlier. "So what have you two been up to? Anything interesting I haven't heard before."

Hermione put on a wide smile and turned toward him. "I can't think of anything, can you Harry?"

"Er, no," he replied hesitantly. He tried to smile at Ginny, but found her staring down at him with a horrified expression.

"Harry! What happened?" she cried as she knelt down in front of him.

"Er, what?" he mumbled.

Ginny looked at him as if he were completely mental "Your face, Harry! Did you get hit with a Bludger?"

"Oh! No!" he called out as he reached up to where Hermione had hit him. It was warm and swollen. His mind raced to come up with an explanation. "No," he repeated, "Felt like it though. It was... a disgruntled fan, I guess."

"Doesn't look like they were all that much of a fan," Ginny commented as she leaned forward to take a closer look. Harry threw a nasty look at Hermione and she stared back defiantly. Ginny didn't notice. She was gently prodding the bruise. With a sigh, she pulled out her wand and held it up next to Harry's cheek bone. "Hold still, I'll fix it."

* * *

The bruise continued to tingle and itch for some time after Ginny healed it, but at least it didn't make Harry look as though he'd just lost some fight. Hermione continued pretending that nothing had happened, and even feigned real interest and excitement when the match began. After a few minutes, she calmed down and Harry began to see hints of her annoyance with him showing through the expression she had been wearing as a mask. 

About twenty minutes after the start of the match, Ron came up to join them. He said he'd spent some time patrolling the pitch as the last of the spectators made their way to the towers. After that, he'd searched around looking for the guards assigned to Tower Two and traded duty at the Germany match the next week for guard duty over the tower.

There were no open seats, so he simply stood against the wall near Harry. Hermione wasn't very talkative, but this didn't seem to bother Ron as much as Harry would have expected it to. Instead, he spent most of the time watching and cheering along with Harry and Ginny.

Unfortunately, there was more watching and talking than cheering. The Irish team was playing well enough, and there were a number of rather impressive maneuvers, but from the start of the match it had appeared to be just as lopsided as the Bulgarian match. The one thing keeping everyone in their seats was the memory of just what had happened with Italy at that match.

Harry noticed quite a few people staring up into the sky while the Irish Chasers rocketed down the pitch with the Quaffle. Whether they scored or not didn't seem quite as important as what the two Seekers might be up to. Even Harry found himself watching them and trying to size the two of them up.

The Irish Seeker was a young witch who flew rather aggressively. She must have known that her competitor was going to have some trouble keeping up with her and so she spent as much time as she could flying around the pitch at a surprisingly high speed. It was a bit of a gamble because flying that fast meant that there was a greater chance that you would miss the glint of the Snitch as the wind buffeted your face.

In this case, however, it seemed to be working just as she had hoped. The Italian Seeker, knowing that he was outclassed both in speed and skill, put most of his attention on her, making it even less likely he would spot the Snitch. Ron, Harry and Ginny understood the strategy well. The Irish Seeker was intentionally trying to lengthen the match. If the Snitch was found early, there was always a chance that the most minor mistake might cost either team the match, just as Viktor Krum had learned. With the score already at seventy to ten, the young witch was hoping to push the score up high enough that no amount of luck could save Italy. A few minutes later, Ireland scored again. The Irish Seeker cheered and looped around the goal hoops, pushing her broom even faster.

"This would have been more fun if Bulgaria were here," commented Ron as the Quaffle was stolen from the Italian Chasers a minute later. They simply weren't any match for the skill of the Irish. "The Chasers they had could have really made this interesting. They might have even been better than the Irish. It's hard to tell, of course," he explained, "the Italian Keeper seems to be playing even better today." He frowned and shrugged as the Quaffle sailed easily through the center hoop on the Italian side. "Well, perhaps not consistently better," Ron corrected himself, "but better on the whole."

"Are you certain it's the same wizard?" Hermione asked in a bewildered voice.

"Well, they announced the same name," Ron replied. "Why would anyone want to play under someone else's name? It's not like anyone is really frightened of the Italian team."

Harry watched Hermione as her eyes gazed emptily across the pitch. "There's something different about him. I can't quite understand it."

"He's got a bit more confidence," Ron said. "That win against Bulgaria probably helped. Of course, I never would have expected you'd notice something like that. I didn't think you paid that much attention to Quidditch players."

Hermione shrugged and stared down at her hands in confusion. "I don't."

Ron shrugged off the comment and turned back to the match. The Seekers were now sailing around the pitch so fast Harry couldn't see how they could keep track of the Bludgers, much less something as small as a Snitch. As Ireland's lead lengthened to one hundred ten points, Harry noticed a change in the Italian team. Everyone was moving a little slower. The Beaters weren't hitting the Bludgers quite as hard as they had been. The Keeper, who had made a pair of spectacular saves a few minutes earlier, missed a Quaffle thrown only inches away from him.

"They're giving up," Ron lamented. "Bulgaria never would have done that."

A number of cries rang out from the crowd. Without Harry even noticing, both of the Seekers had dropped out of the clouds. His eyes locked onto them as they both turned into a dizzying spiral. Before they reached the pitch, the Irish Seeker pulled out of her dive and pointed her broom back into the sky, where Harry spotted a golden glint streaking upward away from the pitch. The Italian Seeker had a little more trouble turning himself around, and only narrowly avoided slamming directly into the ground.

As the Snitch zipped off toward the Italian goal hoops, the Irish Seeker was close behind it. It seemed that the Italians' luck had run out. Their Seeker was now horribly out of place. The Snitch was all the way across the pitch, and he could never hope to close the distance in time. He tried his best, but only seconds later, he sat back on his broom and slowed down as the crowd erupted with triumphant cheers.

For the Italian team, the loss didn't appear to be as bitter as it might have been. After all, no one had expected them to defeat Bulgaria. Even though they had only won by a fluke mistake, it was still something to be proud of. One by one, they began drifting back down to the pitch. Only the Keeper remained in the air. He seemed content to spend one last moment in front of the hoops he'd guarded all match.

On the other end of the pitch, the Irish were celebrating. Instead of the more customary hugging or hand-shaking, they had started an impromptu game as the Chasers playfully attempted to catch and restrain their Seeker. She dodged and evaded them before one of the Beaters got close enough to put a hand on her broom. After a short celebration, the Seeker broke free and began a slow circle inside the towers, waving to all the Irish fans.

The cheers grew in volume as she circled around past the tower Harry, Ginny and Hermione were sitting in. Harry smiled with the memories of what that felt like. The Irish Seeker had been struggling lately. She had not even played in the last match, but after an unimpressive showing by the reserve Seeker, she'd been given a second chance. Now, the elation of a job well done was evident in her face. Harry couldn't help but smile.

She turned around and made her way back to the towers where the bulk of the Irish fans had been watching the match. After a quick loop in front of the loudest section of fans, she came to a stop, and held the Snitch for all of them to see. The replied with appreciative cheering.

Without warning, a chill swept through Harry. Before he could even think of what to say, the sky flickered with sickly green light. For a moment, no one really understood what had happened. The world simply seemed to stop as everyone paused to search for whatever had caused it.

Harry was probably the first to notice. The sun glinted off the Snitch as it dropped, catching Harry's eye. A second later, the Irish Seeker slid off her broom and plummeted toward the pitch. Two of the Italian Chasers were still holding their brooms, and they quickly leaped into the air to try and catch her. It didn't really matter. Harry already knew it was too late.

"Hermione, I need you to find Ron," he ordered. "Tell him to call the guards to the pitch immediately." She didn't question him. She immediately jumped from her seat and ran for the stairs before anyone else had a chance to panic.

"What was that?" Ginny asked hoarsely. "Harry... is she dead? How—"

"There's no time, Ginny," he said firmly. "I need you to get to the Apparation point."

"No time for what?" she replied. "Harry, what's going on?"

Somehow, he knew exactly what was going on, but he didn't have the time to explain it. He pulled Ginny out of her seat, clasped onto her by the shoulders and forced her to look into his eyes. "Ginny, you have to listen to me. You can't be here. You have to go."

"Okay," she agreed weakly. "We'll go. Come on—"

"No," he said, stopping her. "I'm staying, but you need to go." Ginny tried to protest, but Harry forced her to listen to him. "I think something very bad is going to happen."

"It already has—" Ginny tried to interrupt.

"It's going to get worse," Harry continued. "I need you to leave while you can. You need to find Josef or Aleksey. You need to tell them what is happening."

'I don't know what's happening!" she replied in a panicked shout.

"Find them!" Harry shouted over the first chorus of screams from the spectators. "Tell them there has been a fire. They'll know what that means. Now, please go. Promise me you'll find them as quickly as you can."

Ginny looked down at the pitch where a crowd was growing around the spot where the young witch had landed, then back at Harry. "Alright," she said with a quick nod. "I— I trust you."

"Good," replied Harry. "Now go!"

As Ginny wove her way between the other witches and wizards running for the stairs, Harry stepped over the rows of seats until he'd reached the very front of the box. He pulled out his wand and looked down at the pitch, searching for anyone with a broom. Withing seconds, he spotted one of the referees running toward a clump of guards. He had a broom in his hand.

"_Accio!_" shouted Harry with as much force as he could muster.

The broom was wrenched out of the referee's grip, but he barely seemed to notice. The seconds which passed as the broom flew from the ground to Harry's hand seemed to last forever. As it neared the box, Harry put one foot on the rail guarding the edge of the box and made sure it was solid and reliable. When it was just a few feet away, Harry pushed off with his back leg, giving him enough leverage to use the rail as a platform to launch himself out of the tower. He caught the broom as he jumped and slipped one leg over it as he fell. A moment later, he was circling the dead Seeker about ten feet above the ground.

An Auror pushed his way to the fallen witch's side and swept his wand around him in a circle, drawing a crackling circle of light. It expanded, pushing back a clearing in the growing crowd. Harry flew closer and came to a stop just over the ring of light. The Auror carefully turned over the young woman's body and pulled out his wand.

Harry stared down into the woman's eyes. There was no need for the Auror's wand. Harry already knew what had killed her. He could see the hollow look of fear and surprise in her eyes. It had been the Killing Curse, but from where? It hadn't seemed to have come from any direction. It has just _happened_.

"You have to get them all out of here!" Harry shouted.

The Auror spun around to face him. "Who do you think you—" He stopped suddenly and stared at him in shock. "You're— you're Harry Potter."

"You need to get everyone away from the pitch," Harry shouted. "Whoever did this— They're not going to stop. Everyone here is in danger." A number of people nearby overheard him and began running away from the pitch in panic.

"It must be one of the Italians," the Auror replied, apparently ignoring Harry's warning. "We should gather the teams and—"

Harry saw a second flash of light illuminate the Auror's face. He turned around in time to see one of the Italian Beaters falling off his broom. He had been hovering about fifty feet away and landed limply on the ground. A second gasp rippled through the crowd.

"Send up the alarm!" Harry shouted as he leaned forward and shot off toward the second victim. Before he reached his destination, another chorus of screams cut through the murmurs of the crowd. Harry turned, circling around the second victim to see guards running toward a third fallen wizard.

Instead of wasting time looking at any of the victims, Harry pulled up on the broom to gain some altitude. Whoever was doing it must be in one of the towers. It was the only place with a clear view of all the victims. He flew about slowly searching the towers for anyone who didn't seem to be trying to escape.

Another flash of light lit up the pitch, but this time it was red and it didn't fade. When Harry turned to see where it came from, he found Ron and Hermione, standing side by side with their wands raised into the air. They had both sent up brilliant red sparks signaling all of the guards to come to the pitch immediately. Harry gave up on his search to drop down and speak with them.

"What's happening?" Ron asked as soon as Harry got without shouting distance.

"I don't know!" Harry replied. "Someone in one of the towers is attacking people. They're all dead," he added. "They're using the Killing Curse, but I can't tell which tower it's coming from."

The towers in front of him flashed an ominous orange color, and a second later Harry was nearly knocked off his broom by a deafening blast. He regained his balance and saw a plume of fire and black smoke billowing from the top of one of the towers as burning debris rained down on the fleeing spectators.

"Not that one," Ron commented gravely as a new round of red sparks shot up into the sky. Seconds later, half a dozen wizards shot into the air on brooms. It appeared that they had come to the same conclusion as Harry. He decided to let them do the looking and allowed himself to drop down closer to the ground. Ron had run off in search of a broom.

"Something's not right, Harry," she said. She pulled her arms close to her chest and stared up at the swirling cloud of wizards searching the towers. "They're wrong. They're in danger."

Just as she said that, there was another flash of green and another wizard plummeted from the sky. "What is it, Hermione?" he asked. "What are they wrong about?"

"It's not in the towers," she replied in an empty voice. "It's up there," she said, pointing into the swarm of guards and Aurors. Another flash of green filled the sky and a group of wizards fell into steep dives as they tried to catch another dropping body.

Ron returned with a broom and tried to kick off the ground, but Hermione leaped forward and grabbed onto the broom, keeping him on the ground. "No, don't go," she pleaded.

"I have to, Hermione," Ron replied firmly. "It's what I'm here for."

"No!" she cried. "It's killing them all. It doesn't want you. It doesn't care about you. If you— Please don't go." Her face was lit for a moment with an eerie green light. Harry didn't turn around. He already knew what it meant.

"What do you know, Hermione?" he asked. "Do you know who's doing this?"

"It's... it's the—" She paused. It looked as though she knew what she wanted to say, she just couldn't quite force the words out of her mouth. "The Keeper," she finally said with a gasp. "It's... the Keeper." Slowly, she extended her arm to point to the opposite end of the pitch, where a wizard on a broom was still lazily circling the goal hoops.

"Him?" Ron asked in disbelief. "Are you mental? The Italian Keeper is not a dark wizard. I've met him. He's a nice bloke, but he's not smart enough to be a dark wizard."

"I told you he was different," Hermione growled. "He's changed."

"How do you know it's him?" Harry asked urgently. "What's different about him?"

Hermione shook her head slowly and struggled to speak as if someone were sitting on her chest. "It's not him," she finally managed to say. "Something about him is... missing. He's not there. It's just— just darkness."

Harry felt his heart pounding in his chest. The description she'd just given was far too similar to the words Mira had used when talking about Marius and herself. It was happening again, only this time they had a chance to try and catch whoever was behind all of it.

"Hermione, I need you to get to the entrance as quickly as you can. If the Brotherhood shows up, tell them what's happening."

"But Ron—" she began to protest.

"Ron will be fine," Harry shouted in response. "I'll protect him as well as I can, I promise, but we need help. If the Brotherhood shows up, someone needs to let them through the gates and no one can do that as easily as you can." Hermione frowned and gave Ron a sad look. She whispered something to him, gave him a quick kiss on the neck and ran off toward the entrance.

After Hermione was out of sight, Ron turned to Harry with a serious expression. "Alright, Harry. Do you actually have a plan which doesn't end with our lifeless corpses lying on the pitch?"

"Hard to tell," Harry replied as he scanned the area around them. "I haven't really thought it through to that part, yet."

Ron let out a short grunt. "That makes me feel better."

Harry didn't really have much of a plan at all. He knew he needed help, and there was plenty to be found, he just had to convince them to trust him. While his fame might have helped, the current panic running through the Aurors and Guards who were trying to protect the fleeing spectators was going to make it difficult.

"Ron, we need to find a way to tell them about the Italian Keeper," Harry said as she flew forward slowly. "Can you talk with a few of your guard friends? I think it's going to take quite a few of us to stop him."

"Well, I can talk to them," he replied unenthusiastically, "but I can't say they'll listen. To be honest, I don't get all that much respect from them."

"Try," responded Harry.

With a sigh, Ron flew off toward one of the closest wizards with Harry following closely behind him. The wizard was wearing the same uniform as Ron, but Harry didn't recognize him. Apparently Ron just picked the first one he saw. As they got closer, Ron called out to get the man's attention. He succeeded, and the wizard spun around and pointed his wand at Ron and Harry.

"Stay where you are!" he shouted.

"Wait, we're—"

"Quiet!" the man howled. "Keep your mouth shut and your hands away from your pockets."

"I'm a guard!" Ron shot back, tugging at his cloak.

"Says you," the guard replied. "How do I know that you're not the one tossing curses at everyone?"

Just at that moment, a second tower exploded, making the air vibrate with the force of the blast. The wizard's face paled, and he turned back toward Ron and Harry. "Alright, I believe you. We'd better keep moving before we're next. If we don't find out who's doing this soon, there won't be any of us left to see that everyone escapes."

"It's the Keeper from Italy," Harry shouted, pointing across the pitch. "He's the one doing this!"

"Cirillo Presagio?" the man shouted. "You're bloody bonkers. His father works for the Italian Ministry. He's no more a dark wizard than I am. If you really want to help, we'll need wizards with good speed on a broom once we spot the bastard doing this. So either do your part or leave."

Suddenly, a familiar wizard caught Harry's eye. Harry tapped Ron's shoulder and immediately took off after the wizard. The referee's broom wasn't as fast as the brooms used by the actual players, but it was more than a match for most of the working brooms used by the Aurors. Within a few seconds, Harry had caught up to his target.

"Kingsley!" he shouted.

Harry wasn't prepared for Kingsley Shacklebolt's response. While the Auror's broom might not have been made for speed, it seemed to be quite a bit better at stopping. Harry nearly fell off his broom trying to stay with him.

"Harry?" Kingsley shouted in a surprised voice. "What are you doing here? Get out of here!"

"We know who's doing it!" Harry shouted. Before Kingsley had a chance to ignore him, he pointed toward the end of the pitch where the Italian Keeper was still hovering. Kingsley's head turned and Harry saw his eyes lock onto the still shape of the Keeper on his broom. There was yet another flash of green light, and across the pitch, the dark red cloak of a guard fluttered as the wizard wearing it dropped lifelessly to the ground.

"We need to move fast," Kingsley said as he began flying again. "We'll never be able to face him on brooms. For now, keep flying and try not to get yourselves killed. Watch for our signal and dive to the pitch when you do."

Harry and Ron did as Kingsley said and began flying around in some sort of a loose pattern on the opposite side of the pitch. There was no telling just how long it would Kingsley to pass the news to everyone else, so Harry and Ron pretended they were searching the towers for the attacker just like everyone else. Most of the towers were half empty or more by then, but spectators were still streaming across the pitch, trying to get to the main path which led to the exit. Just as Harry climbed up enough to get a look at the gate where he'd sent Hermione, there was a loud _crack_ followed by the unmistakable glare of bright red sparks.

Without a second thought, Harry and Ron both turned their brooms over into steep dives. As the dry grass rushed up at them, they gradually pulled up until they were flying only feet off the ground and making their way quickly to the center of the pitch. All around them, wizards were diving out of the sky. A pair of green flashes filled the sky as the guards followed the Aurors. Within seconds, the only wizard left on a broom who wasn't fleeing the pitch was Cirillo Presagio. He just kept circling the goal hoops.

Harry and Ron discarded their brooms and began running across the pitch to where Kingsley Shacklebolt was shouting orders to the Aurors and guards. They hadn't crossed half the distance when dozens of wands pointed up into the sky and fired off a multi-colored volley of hexes. Somehow, the Keeper evaded all of them, including the second volley a couple seconds later. Harry kept running. He could almost make out what Kingsley was saying.

The Aurors and guards raised their wands once more, but no hexes came —at least, not from them. Out of nowhere, a witch appeared on a broom. She was traveling surprisingly fast, and as she passed behind the goal hoops, her wand flashed briefly.

Harry was already close enough to see the Keepers' broom shatter into kindling, leaving him high above the pitch without a broom or any talented friends. He and Ron stared in shock as the wizard dropped toward the rocky ground. However, before he struck the ground, he performed a quick half-flip and held his arms out to his sides. His descent slowed until he was dropping slowly enough that he could simply step onto the pitch. He paused for a moment to survey the wizards standing around him. Then, with two quick flips of his wand, a pair of Aurors, including a witch who looked scarcely older than Harry himself, dropped silently to the ground.

"Potter!" screamed Presagio. "Come out, Potter, or I'll take another two!"

From up ahead of him, Kingsley Shacklebolt spun around and held out his hand, telling Harry to stay back. Harry ignored him, but Ron didn't. Two strong hands grabbed Harry from behind and held him where he was while quite a few other wizards ran forward to form a rough circle around the Keeper.

"What are you doing, Ron?" Harry hissed as he struggled against his friend.

"Let them do their job, Harry," Ron replied. "This isn't going to go well and it'll be better for all of us if you're not a part of it."

Ahead of them, Shacklebolt was trying to organize the Aurors. "Drop your wand and step back!" he shouted at the wizard in the center. "It's over. Whatever it is you think you're solving with this, we're not going to let it continue, so put down your wand and we can talk."

"I don't want to talk," Harry heard the man reply in a cold voice, "and I don't care what you think you're capable of doing."

"What _do_ you want?" Shacklebolt asked. "No matter how many people you kill, it can't change the outcome of the match. You'll never convince the World Cup Committee to reverse the—"

"_I don't care about the match,_" spat the Keeper. "Bring me Ginevra Weasley."

"Even if she were here, I'd never let you speak to her."

"Then bring me Harry Potter," he demanded.

Kingsley held his ground. "Harry's gone. You'll have to talk to me."

Harry heard the man shout some sharp words. A number of the wizards surrounding him started casting a variety of hexes. Some of them even succeeded in finishing them before they were tossed backward with a flash of red light.

"Liar!" the wizard shouted as he stared at Harry over the flattened guards and Aurors. Between the two of them, Kingsley Shacklebolt was struggling to his feet. He shouted something to the others, and a number of wizards began moving very quickly.

One of the wizards who had been outside the area of the blast ran forward with his wand trained on Presagio and shouted: "_Expelliarmus!_" Just as the charm was supposed to work, the Keeper's wand was pulled from his hand and sent sailing in a high arc toward the other wizards.

Presagio let out an enraged growl. He glared at the wizard, then raised his left arm quickly. Thirty feet away, the other wizard let out a scream of agony as his wand arm bent awkwardly at the elbow. Presagio curled his arm in toward his body, then straightened it quickly toward his target. Still gasping in pain from the first injury, the wizard who'd cursed him didn't even realize he was in danger. There was a number of sharp cracking sounds as he shot backward violently. He landed quite some distance away and didn't move.

Kingsley shot a quick stunner at the Keeper, but he managed to deflect it somehow with just the palm of his hand. The next to try to stop him were a pair of Aurors who had tried to sneak up behind him. Simultaneously, they summoned ropes which began to wind themselves around Presagio's arms, pulling them against his body and hopefully preventing him from using any more magic.

Their hopes were dashed a moment later, when the ropes burst into dozens of pieces. The wizards had already stepped closer and raised their wands for a second attempt, when Harry realized that the various pieces of rope were moving. The two wizards noticed this an instant later, but it was already too late. Presagio laughed as a number of large snakes slithered toward them. They turned their wands on the new threat, but there were simply too many of them. The rest of the guards and Aurors struggled to destroy or remove the other snakes, but the two who had cast the hexes were overwhelmed. Harry pulled out his wand and ran forward, but all he could do was watch helplessly as a dozen snakes leaped up to bite their legs.

"Ahh, there you are, Harry," the Keeper greeted him coldly. "I knew you wouldn't be able to simply run away from a situation like this. Your friend however," he said with a glance toward Ron, "won't be needed."

"I think I'll stay," Ron announced as he pulled his wand.

"You need to think about your friends, Harry," he said threateningly. "Think about what would happen if they knew the secrets you've been hiding from them." A smile started to form on his face. "He doesn't know, does he?" When Harry didn't reply immediately, his smile grew. "Of course he doesn't. He wouldn't be standing at your side if he did. Should we see just how loyal he is? Would you like to tell him, or should I?"

Harry felt as though the world had gone cold around him. Things were going even worse than Ron could have expected. There was only one thing he could have been talking about and that was the last thing Harry wanted to discuss in front of Ron. It became immediately obvious that the situation couldn't possibly be helped by having Ron with him.

"What's he talking about, Harry?" Ron whispered.

Harry ignored the question. "Ron, I need you to go to the main gate," he said without taking his eyes off the Keeper.

"I'm not leaving—"

"_Go!_" Harry commanded him. "Right now, the most helpful thing you can do is to go help Hermione. We can handle this. Just go."

With obvious reluctance, Ron backed away and walked to where he'd left his broom. Harry and the rest of the wizards waited in silence as Ron left.

"Alright, Mr. Presagio," Kingsley said as he stood up. "Harry's here. Why don't you put down your wand and stop all of this. Think of your father. What would he want you to do?"

"He won't listen to you!" Harry called out. "He's not himself. He's under some sort of curse. Someone else is controlling him."

"Like the Imperius?" suggested one the Aurors.

"I don't really know," Harry replied without taking his eyes off the wizard standing in the center of the circle.

"How are we supposed to stop him?" another Auror asked.

"You're not," the man replied. "If I wanted you to stop me, you would have. If I wanted you to find me, you would have. If I wanted you all dead, none of us would be standing here."

There was something truly chilling about his voice. Harry had heard quite a few dark wizards spouting egotistical boasts, but there was something different this time. There was no pride or enjoyment in his voice. He didn't even sound intimidating. He sounded _bored_. The calm way he addressed the dozen wizards holding wands on him, told Harry that he had a reason to be confident.

"Fight me," the wizard demanded.

Harry didn't know what to do. He needed time to think, but that didn't seem very likely. Whoever was controlling Presagio must be a powerful dark wizard. Wandless magic was difficult to control even when you were doing the simplest of spells. The ease with which he used it was truly frightening. Grigore had said that Harry had the talent to perform it, but he'd never actually tried. Now was certainly not the best time to begin. Everything else they had tried had failed utterly. He needed to think of something else.

Unfortunately, he wasn't the only person to reach this conclusion. From the corner of his eye, Harry spotted another pair of wizards creeping forward. He tried to get them to stop, but they refused to pay any attention to him.

The moment they reached for their wands, Presagio turned and pointed a single finger at each of them. They instantly dropped to the ground, releasing their wands and convulsing violently as screams of excruciating pain were ripped from their throats.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" shouted an Auror from the other side of the circle. Harry watched in shock as the bolt of rushing green light slammed into Presagio doing little more than causing him to stumble forward. Without releasing the two wizards begging for mercy on the grass, he turned to stare at the wizard who'd attacked him. There was a sound like a gust of wind and Harry waited for the signature flash of green, but nothing ever came. Instead, the wizard who had attacked Presagio reached for his chest, let out a hoarse gasp and simply dropped to the ground.

"Stop it!" Harry commanded.

Malevolent green light flared in the man's eyes. He quickly extended an open-palmed hand toward each of the wizards writhing on the ground. Their cries were silenced by a pair of green flashes. The wizard let out a short laugh.

"They were fools," he declared. "They were unworthy. Their clumsy attempts are an embarrassment to those of us who have mastered true magic. Even calling them wizards seems to be a perversion of the word. In the end, the ending of their lives was insignificant because they were insignificant. You, however, are different." He stared at Harry with an expression of excitement and anticipation. "Show them, Harry. Prove to them that I am right about you."

"I won't," Harry replied, dropping his wand and triggering a number of shocked gasps.

"_Do it,_" the wizard growled.

He flicked a finger at Harry's wand and it jumped off the ground and flew toward him. Harry resisted the instinct to catch it and allowed it to bounce harmlessly off his shoulder.

"Why resist, Harry?" the wizard replied sharply. "We both know that you won't refuse forever. I'll kill every last one of them until you have no choice. Of course, we both know it won't even last that long. Now pick up your wand and face me."

"Why?" Harry shouted. "What are you trying to prove? Why are you here? What purpose did any of their deaths serve? If they were so insignificant, why kill them?"

The man returned a cold smile. "I was putting them out of their misery."

"You were the one who put them _in_ misery!"

"Ah, you see? There is balance in the world after all," the man said with harsh laughter. "Grigore would be so proud."

"That's it, then?" Harry snarled. "There's no reason at all? You're just here to cause pain?"

"_Pain,_" the man roared. "Their puny existence cannot even fathom the true meaning of the word. But you will," he added threateningly. "You have much to learn, Harry, and it's time for your lessons to begin."

Harry stared back at him with smoldering fury. "Who are you?" he shouted. "Why do you want me?"

"Oh, it's complicated," the man said with a chilling laugh. "I think you already know who I am. My interest in you, however, is something which might take some time to explain. I'm afraid our present company might not be willing to wait that long." His smiled faded. "Tell your weakling friends to leave before they get hurt."

"We're not leaving, and we can't let you leave either," Kingsley Shacklebolt shouted. "This ends now."

"No," the wizard replied. "No, it is just the beginning." He stared at Harry and his eyes blazed with a pale green light. He began speaking again but Harry could already _feel_ what he was about to say. As the sharp hissing sounds slipped from his mouth, the chanting rhythm echoed inside Harry's head:

_Across the endless wastes and timeless sands_ _I come to end what cannot be ended_ _To deny others what has been withheld_ _And with all my emptiness fill the world_

As he finished the final line, Harry was filled with a sudden dread. The wizard's eyes glowed brighter and brighter, until they were casting an eerie green glow on everyone nearby. "Get back, everyone!" Harry called out to the others, but no one seemed to hear them. A number of them were inching closer and raising their wands, preparing for a single overwhelming attack.

The wizard in the center of them made no move to stop them or even deter their approach. He simply stood there, holding his arms out to either side of him. Harry would have almost thought the man was trying to say that he was surrendering, if not for the green light flickering wildly in his eyes.

"_Good bye, Harry_," he whispered in Parseltongue. "_We will meet again, very soon._"

The sound of rushing wind filled Harry's ears and he suddenly understood what was about to happen. "No!" he shouted as he began running forward to stop them. Kingsley Shacklebolt turned around just long enough to point a warning finger at Harry, telling him to stay where he was. Harry tried to tell him to call them all back, but before he could even begin, his vision was filled with a sickly green light and a deafening howl of wind.

He felt himself tossed backward and pain exploded through his shoulder and head as he slammed onto the hard pitch. He cried out in agony, yet part of him felt an odd elation at the realization that he was still alive. He blinked away tears of pain and pushed himself up onto his knees.

The area was filled with dazed and stumbling wizards, but at the very center, Cirillo Presagio was lying motionless on his back. Immediately surrounding him were a number of other bodies lying completely still, as if they had simply dropped where they were standing. Harry stumbled forward crying out for anyone who might help him.

He ran for the closest of the motionless figures. Even though he was lying on his stomach, Harry immediately recognized the wizard as Kingsley. Harry knelt down next to him, shaking him and calling out to the Auror. After getting no response, Harry turned him over onto his back.

Harry froze and felt icy fear gripping him from within. Kingsley Shacklebolt was limp and silent, lying on the pitch and staring up at Harry with eyes locked permanently in a look of confusion and terror.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Well, look at that. There's finally something close to action in this story. And even some real death. I didn't hold back much. There's quite the loss of life in this chapter, and some rather ominous bits. Chapter 18 and 19 should be coming along shortly as well.

Oh, and I apologize to any Italian speakers out there.


	18. Fear, Uncertainty and Doubt

**CHAPTER 18**

**Fear, Uncertainty and Doubt**

* * *

Harry's head and shoulder were still throbbing with pain. Kingsley Shacklebolt was dead. So was the Italian Seeker, and all the other wizards who had been standing nearby. There were a number of other wizards who, like Harry, had been far enough away that they had avoided the fate of those standing closer. They were staggering to their feet just as Harry had. Just beyond them was a ring of wizards turning and running away. They had been close enough to see what had happened, but not close enough to be thrown to the ground. Farther beyond them, Harry spotted a number of wizards running toward the scene. They had their wands drawn and stern looks on their faces. 

Slowly, reality crept back into Harry's mind. Cirillo Presagio was only a pawn. He hadn't been in control of himself. Could that have been the explanation for his inconsistent performance? When had it begun? Why hadn't anyone else noticed? Harry stood up and walked toward the man's body. Harry had met him before the match. He'd seemed completely normal then. That would have been the perfect time to attack, yet there had been nothing.

Harry froze suddenly. He already knew the answer. Presagio must have been attacked that day. Whoever had done it was probably still nearby. When they realized that Harry was still alive, they might not want to wait to try again.

Harry stood up slowly and forced himself to swallow. He needed his wand. It was somewhere behind him, but even now he could hear wizards approaching. He knew he couldn't stay where he was. There were too many people nearby. If he had to battle another wizard, he would only be putting them all in danger again.

The sound of heavy boots caught his attention. They were very close now. Harry looked at some of the nearby wizards and realized that they had stopped what they were doing to watch him.

"Turn around, _slowly_," a voice behind him commanded.

Harry turned around let out a sigh of relief as he saw three Aurors standing with their wands drawn and pointed at him. As soon as they saw his face, the two standing farther back lowered their wands and turned confused expressions to the one in the center. He seemed just as surprised, but slightly more composed.

"You're... Harry Potter," he said haltingly. Harry nodded stiffly and the Auror lowered his wand slowly, as if he wasn't really certain if he should. His eyes narrowed as he looked around. "Do you have some sort of... explanation for all this?"

"Not really," Harry replied quietly. "You should gather as many of the other Aurors and guards as you can," he continued. "Whoever did this might still be nearby."

"Yes," the one in the center replied gravely. "I'm afraid we came to the very same conclusion."

"Good, we should probably—" Harry stopped suddenly and swore as his hands instinctively reached for his wand but found only empty pockets. The Aurors jumped at his reaction, and he tried to calm them down as quickly as he could. "Relax, I just remembered that I dropped my wand. It should be somewhere back—"

"We have your wand," the Auror interrupted.

"Thanks," Harry said with relief as he stepped closer to them. "It'll be best if we split up. I'll climb up one of the towers and see if I can spot anything. You lot need to gather as many of your friends as you can and start looking for anyone who isn't trying to leave. Whoever did this is either long gone or they're going to try and wait until the guards and Aurors have left so they can—"

"I'm afraid we can't do that, Potter," the lead Auror replied.

Harry flashed an annoyed expression at them. "Why not?"

"I think it's best if you come with us," he said as he held his wand out in front of him. It wasn't pointed at Harry, but he held it with a light, deft touch that Harry recognized all too well. It was the stance of a wizard ready to defend himself.

"Can I have my wand, now?" he asked.

"I don't know if that's a good idea."

"You have nothing to fear from me," Harry told him.

"I'll decide that myself," the Auror replied in a hard voice. Before Harry could comment, another pair of Aurors walked up to the first three and whispered something Harry couldn't hear. When they finished, the head Auror frowned at Harry. "You had no part in this?" he asked suspiciously.

"I tried to stop him!" Harry shouted.

"I'd like to believe that," the older wizard said in an even tone, "but you're going to need a pretty good explanation to convince the Wizengamot."

Harry tried to argue. He got the feeling that the Auror truly didn't want to believe that Harry had any part in it, but as he led Harry back to where he'd been standing, he understood why they had come for him. A number of wizards standing well behind him were just as lifeless as those standing next to Cirillo Presagio. Indeed, it appeared that standing near him had been just as lethal as standing close to the Italian Keeper.

"I don't know what happened," he tried to tell them. "I— I don't understand it."

The lead Auror let out a frustrated sigh. "As I said, I'd like to believe you, but it's out of my hands, now. I have orders to bring you back to the Ministry immediately."

Harry bristled where he stood. He'd been stupid not to see it earlier. They'd taken his wand. The Aurors helping the others were trying to move the survivors away in case he had decided to fight back. Now he saw them standing in a rough circle around him, much like they had surrounded the Italian Keeper minutes earlier, though this time most of them were keeping their distance.

"I was hoping we could be civilized about this," the Auror said as he signaled for a number of other wizards to approach. "If you are telling the truth, then we should have no need to restrain you."

"I already told you," Harry growled. "I'm no threat to you, but someone here is. If you leave here, whoever did this is going to escape."

"I don't have a choice, Mr. Potter," the wizard said. "I have my orders."

"And who did those orders come from," Harry asked, "Scrimgeour or Reynard?"

"The Minister of Magic," the Auror replied quickly. "The Department of Mysteries has no reason to be involved in these matters and Mr. Reynard has no authority here."

Despite his dislike for the Minister, this was fortunate for Harry. Scrimgeour could be reasoned with. He might be overly concerned with appearances, but that was nothing compared to the list of problems Harry had with Reynard. There might be no limit to the things that Reynard might do to try and keep Harry from interfering with his plans.

However, as he walked with the Aurors, he began to think that the destruction wrought on the pitch that afternoon was beyond even Reynard's limits for manipulating the wizarding world. Over a dozen wizards had died in the final curse, but that was only a small fraction of the casualties lying about the immediate area.

Two of the towers were cracked and smoldering, billowing black smoke into the clear autumn sky. Groups of wizards were trying to carry the survivors of the blasts to safety. Others were trying to pull the less fortunate from the rubble. Scattered across the pitch, other clumps of wizards were huddling around the fallen bodies of the first few victims. There was no telling just how many wizards had died or how many more had been injured too seriously for St. Mungo's to heal without some form of permanent damage.

There was no justification for such violence. Reynard was corrupt and power-hungry, but he wasn't unhinged. The scene around him looked more like the work of some enraged beast than any wizard. Even Voldemort had shown more restraint in his attacks. The wizards lying dead around the pitch had been killed for no reason at all. Their deaths had served no purpose and sent no message. It was a pattern he'd seen only once before.

The villagers of that town had just as little warning as the spectators at the match. Harry hadn't actually been there when the dragons attacked, but he'd rushed to Romania the moment he heard about it. He never found out just what they had used, but the Brotherhood had slipped some potion into the food being given to the dragons at the nearby encampment. It had twisted their minds, causing them to attack the small town without any manner of provocation. The attack had been short, but fierce and impossible to explain.

As Harry walked off the pitch he felt his anger rising. The attack hadn't been the work of any normal wizard. Somehow Cirillo Presagio had been corrupted the same way Mira and Marius Lipton had been. The attacks at Hogwarts had only been a test. Reynard had unleashed more power than he was able to control and now he was going to try and blame it on Harry.

More Aurors joined the group, a number of them taking the lead. The first Auror who talked to him never left Harry's side, but the closer they got to the escaping crowds, the more the rest of the Aurors tried to form a barrier between them and Harry.

The sight of Harry being led from the pitch by a band of Aurors didn't escape the notice of the wizards they passed. Before they had covered half the distance to the gate, the rumor had spread before them, and witches and wizards alike turned to stare and comment on the spectacle.

Harry's anger seethed. It wouldn't matter what happened after he reached the Ministry. He could already imagine the rumors which were starting. The Auror next to him sighed and gave him a sympathetic look, but said nothing. As they walked around one last gentle curve, the main gate came into view and shouting voices could be heard coming from the crowd ahead of him.

A moment later, the Aurors in front of him came to an abrupt halt as they began arguing with a number of wizards in front of them. "Don't do anything foolish," the Auror next to him warned Harry as he walked forward to see what the problem was.

Harry watched as Hermione pushed past the line of Aurors and strode toward him. The head Auror intercepted her before she could reach him. She tried side-stepping him as well, but he extended his arm, barring her path. She stopped and shot an enraged glare at him.

"I need to talk to Harry," she growled.

"I'm afraid he can't talk right now," the Auror replied calmly.

"Why not?"

"We're on our way to the Ministry."

Hermione glanced over at Harry. "That's where I'm headed as well," she declared. "I'll just walk with you."

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that either," the Auror replied sternly. This got Hermione's attention again. She turned away from Harry and faced the Auror with a perilous glint in her eyes.

"Has he been arrested?" she asked coldly.

"No, he's—"

"Then you have no power to stop me," she interrupted. He stared down at her without giving any sign of backing down.

"I assure you I do," he whispered. "I'd rather not have to prove it."

"I work for the Department of Mysteries," she snarled back at him. "Don't make me show you whose authority is greater."

"You have no authority in this matter," he said harshly. For the first time since he announced himself to Harry, the Auror was starting to lose his cool. "The Department of Mysteries has no business here. We work for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and take orders from the Minister of Magic."

"Oh, wake up, you idiot," snapped Hermione. "How much longer do you think Scrimgeour will be the Minister? He's only been able to keep his office this long for one reason and he's standing behind you. If you arrest him, Scrimgeour's got nothing. He's got worse than nothing." Hermione stepped closer and lowered her voice. "He'll be removed and when he does, I'll remember just how helpful you were."

The Auror remained in place. "You cannot threaten me."

A disturbing smile spread across Hermione's face. "I don't need to," she replied in smooth tones. "You're going to do what I say. You're going to step aside and let me talk to Harry."

For a moment, the Auror faltered. "I, er— No, you're— you're going to have to—"

Hermione's hand grasped the Auror's wrist and began twisting it down and out of her way. As she did that, she stared up into his eyes, speaking so quietly that only the three of them could hear. "You never told your wife about it, did you Carus? It was just one night. You've almost forgotten about it yourself." The smile on her face grew slowly. "I can bring it all back. Your wife might forgive you for the girl... but not for the daughter you gave her."

The Auror's face drained of all color. "But... How could you—" he stammered.

"Let—Me—Pass," Hermione commanded him. His arm went limp, and she easily pushed past him, leaving the dazed Auror to gape at her in horror.

"What was that about?" Harry whispered as Hermione approached.

"Shut up, Harry, we don't have much time," she snapped. "This is really bad. I'm going to try to help you, but you need to be _completely_ honest with me." Harry looked around nervously at the Aurors surrounding him, but nodded quickly.

"How much of it was you, Harry?" she asked in a steady voice. "How much of it did you cause?"

"None of it!" he replied louder than he should have.

Hermione frowned. "Please Harry," she begged, "you need to tell me the truth. I think I can help, but only if you're willing to admit what you've done. Now, how much of it did you do? Just the start? Or the end?"

"I didn't do any of it," he insisted. "I didn't even have my wand."

"We both know that's completely irrelevant," she said with a little more frustration. "Now tell me the truth so I can try to get you out of this. I'm not letting you go to Azkaban, Harry. Not yet. If you want to throw your life away, you can do it after you've fixed everything."

'I didn't do this!" Harry shouted.

Hermione's eyes narrowed to smoldering slits. "Fine," she spat furiously. "Then you're on your own. That's the way you always liked doing things, wasn't it?" She spun around just as Ron broke through the crowd in front of the Aurors.

"What's going on?" he shouted. "What're they doing with Harry? What's happened?"

"Nothing at all, Ronald," Hermione told him as she strode away from Harry. As she passed Ron she grabbed his arm and pulled him along with her. As they reached the crowd, she turned to glare at Harry and said over her shoulder, "—and even if it had, Harry wouldn't want your help."

The two of them disappeared into the stream of fleeing spectators and the Aurors around Harry seemed to suddenly wake up. The lead Auror appeared shaken but he quickly took control of himself. After shouting an order to the others, he returned to his position at Harry's side and continued guiding him toward the gate.

"Come on, Potter," he said wearily. "Let's get this over with."

* * *

Harry arrived at the Ministry after sharing a rather uncomfortable Apparation experience with the Auror. After regaining his balance, he took a look around the Atrium. It was far more crowded than he'd ever seen it. Everyone was standing about engrossed in loud, tense conversations. It took some time before anyone even noticed the Aurors leading him across the hall to the gate and lifts. 

Once they did, however, the effect was much the same as it had been at the pitch. The conversations quieted down, replaced by the restrained whispers of people who aren't sure if they should be shocked or frightened.

Harry felt just as confused as the wizards watching him. The only thing he knew for certain was the one thing that Hermione had not believed. He _hadn't_ done anything. He couldn't figure out why she didn't believe him. He couldn't figure out why he'd survived or even _what_ sort of curse he'd survived. He had no explanations, but he couldn't imagine how anyone could think that he'd somehow caused it.

He was woken up from his thoughts by a murmuring in the crowd ahead of him. He heard a woman's voice and immediately froze, assuming that Hermione had followed them and wanted to try and talk to him again. Instead, Ginny was the one to break through the crowd this time and Josef was following her quickly, holding two folded pieces of parchment in his hands.

"Harry!" Ginny called out as stepped along side him. "We heard what—"

Her voice was cut off abruptly as one of the Aurors leading the group turned around to grab Ginny's shoulder and push her away. In an instant, Josef leaped forward and had a wand pointed directly at the surprised wizard.

"Take your hand off her," he snarled.

Just as quickly as Josef had reacted, two other Aurors whirled about with their wands drawn. An instant later, Harry and the head Auror were jumping between them.

"Put your wands away!" ordered the man Hermione called Carus. "I'm not going to let you fools start a battle in the middle of the Atrium."

"He was first to pull a wand!" one of the Aurors complained.

"And he'll be the first to put his away," Harry added with a meaningful look at Josef. Their eyes met only briefly, but Harry could see that Josef knew Harry was right. With an expression of both acceptance and disgust, he lowered his wand and slipped it back into his pocket. The Aurors did the same, though with quite a bit more reluctance.

"Why are you here with them?" Ginny asked, taking advantage of the silence. "Why are they—" She paused and looked at the Aurors. "They're arresting you, aren't they?"

"He agreed to come with us," the head Auror corrected her.

"Don't worry about it," Harry tried to tell her. "They're just being paranoid. I didn't do anything. Once everyone understands that we can start trying to figure out who was truly responsible."

Ginny's eyes widened in fear. "No, Harry. This is serious. Things are happening... bad things."

"I would suggest more caution in this matter," Josef added quietly. His tone said more than his words. There was some danger that Harry wasn't anticipating. Whatever he'd read on the pieces of parchment in his hand had probably come from some other Brotherhood member. What was happening?

Before he had a chance to ask any questions, the Aurors around him pulled him away from Ginny and through the security gate. Ginny and Josef tried following him, but other guards stepped forward to stop them.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Kantos," they announced, "but you must remain here."

"He is with me," Ginny declared.

The guards stood their ground. "Not if you pass these gates, he's not."

"I am the Liaison to Romania," she announced in a louder voice. "I demand a meeting with the Minister immediately."

"The Minister isn't taking any meetings today," they replied.

Off to Harry's left, a pair of lift doors clattered open. As he was led into the lift, a new pair of wizards stepped forward to bar Ginny's path. They weren't dressed as Aurors. They had been wearing ordinary robes, yet it seemed the guards obeyed them immediately.

The explanation was all too easy for Harry to see.

* * *

Compared to the raucous crowd gathered in the Atrium, the walk to the Minister's office was calm and peaceful. The entire level was teaming with Aurors and guards and they found no less than four of them guarding the doors to the lobby outside the Minister's office. With a silent nod they opened the doors and let Harry and his Auror escorts into the lobby. As soon as they entered, Harry heard the Minister's voice booming throughout the large room. 

"—will not give in to your threats or accept any of your offers! If I choose to resign I will do it for my own reasons and on my own time. I will not let you take this office by force."

"Come now, Rufus, stop all this nonsense and do it now while you can keep some of your dignity," another voice replied smoothly. Harry immediately recognized it as Auguste Reynard. "I have no personal vendetta against you. I would be more than happy to appoint you as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement —or perhaps the Department of International Magical Cooperation. They could use a leader with a stronger hand. If you wait for the people to turn against you, I won't be able to promise such things."

"How kind of you," Scrimgeour said with a sneer.

"Sir?" the Auror next to Harry called out. "He's here." Both of the wizards stopped arguing immediately and turned to face him.

"Hello, Potter," Reynard greeted him stiffly. Harry simply nodded.

Scrimgeour greeted him as well, but it was without any of his usual attempts at friendliness. Judging by the atmosphere, it appeared that the lobby had been chosen as the meeting place instead of the office. Though it wasn't overcrowded, there was little hope of fitting all the wizards standing in the lobby into the Minister's office.

"He came willingly?" Reynard asked with a glance at Harry's wrists.

The Auror next to Harry gave Reynard a sour look and nodded silently. Reynard smiled and let out a hissing laugh.

"How noble of you," he said as he walked closer to Harry. "Or should I say _lordly_. That's the way you meant it, wasn't it? You're gracing us with your presence. You didn't have to obey them. You could have killed them as easily as the others."

"I didn't kill anyone," Harry insisted. "It was the Italian Keeper. I tried to help the Aurors. Kingsley wouldn't let me."

"Kingsley Shacklebolt?" asked the Minister. "I heard that he was killed."

"He was. When the other Aurors surrounded the Keeper, he told me to stay back."

"What Keeper?" Scrimgeour asked with a bewildered look. "Why would Shacklebolt think one of the players would have anything to do with this?" A number of Aurors spoke up, offering an array of answers. Scrimgeour quickly silenced all of them and turned to the Auror who had first approached Harry. "You were there, weren't you? I'd like to hear what you saw —and nothing more."

Slowly and methodically, the Auror gave an account of what had happened from the moment that the Irish Seeker had fallen from her broom. As far as Harry could remember it was accurate, though missing quite a few details. When he was finished, the Minister looked rather dissatisfied.

"And there is no one who has any knowledge of what happened on the pitch?" he grumbled. "There were thousands of wizards at that match. You can see miles from those towers, but no one could get a good view of Potter or the Aurors?"

"All anyone could see was a rough group of Aurors," Carus replied. "Everyone close enough to know what happened— Well, they're dead."

"Except Harry," Reynard commented. "It seems illogical to assume that any dark wizard capable of that sort of destruction would, when cornered, kill himself and leave Harry alive."

"He wanted everyone to blame me," Harry interjected. "He wanted it to look as though I was responsible."

"How convenient for you," purred Reynard, "and stupid of him. Perhaps you are correct, and he has succeeded. A pity that he isn't alive to enjoy the fruits of his labor."

"It wasn't really him," Harry countered. "He was under some sort of curse. Someone else was controlling him."

Reynard began laughing loudly. "Oh, Potter, you are a novice at this, aren't you? Not only do you claim that it wasn't you, but you're saying that the person who did was being controlled by yet another wizard." He smiled as he began pacing the room. "If Lucius Malfoy were around he could teach you the correct way. It is much more convincing to simply claim that you yourself were under the Imperius Curse. When you complicate things it makes it more obvious that you're lying."

"I'm not lying," Harry growled.

"That is a statement which is both popular and completely consistent with liars," Reynard shot back. "The fact of the matter is that you can say whatever you like because you left no one alive to contradict you."

"I didn't kill anyone," Harry said again.

"There are no other options, Harry!" shouted Reynard. "That spell killed everyone in the area. Only _you_ survived. What other conclusions can we reach? What else is there to look at?"

"Perhaps there is something else," replied Scrimgeour. He turned toward one of the robed wizards standing behind Harry. "You had all the wands checked, yes?" he asked him. Harry turned and saw the man nodding. "Including Mr. Potter's?"

The man nodded again. "The last spell was a simple summoning spell," he announced. "It wasn't recent and it agrees with reports from a number of wizards that Harry leaped out of Tower Two onto a broom he'd summoned."

"Was there any sign at all of dark magic?"

"Er, yes..." the man said hesitantly. "About that—"

"Dark magic?" interrupted Scrimgeour. His face had fallen and he stared at Harry as if he had been betrayed by his best friend.

"Yes, sir," the man continued, though the Minister didn't appear to be listening. "They all did, sir," he said in a clearer voice. "Even my own wand, and I never left the tower."

"How is that possible? There must be some mistake. Check another wand!"

"Why don't we check Reynard's wand?" suggested Harry. This earned him a scalding glare.

"I'm afraid my wand would be a poor choice, Minister," he said through clenched teeth. "I've spent all day searching for a cause to this... disease which claimed the life of Marcus Lipton's son. I'm afraid it will confuse whatever tests you might attempt."

"I tried other wands," the wizard interjected before the Minister could make any more comments. "We had a pair of spare wands here and they appeared to be completely normal. We've seen such things before, but it usually takes hours of exposure to dark magic."

"We usually do not expose wands to multiple Killing Curses, either," Reynard added. "The wands prove that dark magic was being used. The fact that Harry charmed his wand to forget the last spells cast with it only proves his guilt even more. He had plenty of time to do that."

"No, he didn't," one of the Auror's replied. "He didn't even have his wand. He said he'd dropped it. We found it under Bertrand Perry."

This news visibly annoyed Raynard. "So Potter was clever," he said. "He must have used another wand. Where was he when you found him?"

"Near that Italian bloke," another Auror answered. "He was just sort of standing there as if he was waiting for us."

Reynard's lips drew back into a smile. "And this Italian, he had a wand?" The Auror turned to look at the other wizard who had spoke about the wands earlier. "I guess so," the Auror replied.

After a moment of silence, Reynard glared at the man. "Well? What did you find?"

A troubled expression crossed the man's face. "I'm afraid it wasn't really a wand, sir," he answered quietly, "—not to be exact. The core... It was just ashes. Merlin himself couldn't have cast a spell with it."

Reynard turned to scowl at Harry. "No, you simpleton," he spat, "Potter destroyed the wand so you couldn't tell what he'd done. It won't matter. That alone will be enough." He walked over to Harry and stared at him with pale eyes. "Do you have anything to say for yourself Potter? This is your last chance. I doubt the Wizengamot will have much mercy for you."

"I didn't kill anyone," Harry insisted yet again.

"I'll be sure to tell Archibald Collins about your lack of remorse for killing his nephew."

"Just hold on, Auguste," Scrimgeour said as walked to Harry's side. "No one's calling the Wizengamot yet. I want answers and it's obvious you've already made up your mind. Harry, I would like to speak to you in my office." He began walking toward the door, motioning for Harry to follow him.

"Perhaps I should join you," suggested Reynard.

The Minister's face remained set and emotionless. "I don't see why that would be necessary. I have had numerous meetings without your consent or presence, Auguste. What should one more matter?"

"Minister, please!" Reynard called out. "I beg you to take a pair of Aurors at the very least. Potter is accused of killing dozens of—"

"He hasn't been accused of anything yet," Scrimgeour interrupted. "As for my safety, I should expect you would be pleased if Potter would decide to murder me. I think that would provide more than enough proof of his guilt." He turned back to Harry and gestured again. "Please, Harry? Perhaps you will be more willing to talk in... other company?"

Harry was feeling less confident about his chances of avoiding Azkaban than he had been earlier. The meeting had gone downhill quickly and he didn't relish the thought of having to argue his innocence in front of an angry Wizengamot. If Scrimgeour could give him any help, it might be worth whatever price he paid. With a cold glare at Reynard, Harry followed the Minister into his office.

"That's quite enough, Harry. I think you've made your point," Scrimgeour said as soon as he'd locked the door. "I'll do whatever I can to help you, but you have to understand that these attacks aren't making it easier for me. The longer you refuse to cooperate, the less I'll be able to do the next time Reynard decides to cause trouble. Just remember that I can't help you if I'm forced to step down because of another one of these stunts of yours."

Harry simply stared in shock at the Minister for a moment. "Weren't you listening to what that Auror said?" he asked in disgust. "Dozens of people are dead. Whoever is responsible is a very powerful dark wizard. Of course, they've escaped by now, and you're worried about your _job_?"

"Yes, I am," Scrimgeour said in an irritated tone, "and so should you be. If I lose my job you must know who will take my place. Neither of us wants that." He paused and rubbed his eyes. "I had hoped that we had built up more trust than you've just shown me, but I can understand your caution."

"My caution?" Harry asked.

"Fine! If you want me to be explicit about such things, let us be explicit about them," Scrimgeour said with a forced smile. "I need you more than you need me —at the moment. If I send you before the Wizengamot, there is a chance that they might send you off to Azkaban. However, I would be cutting my own throat. I see this and I understand your position. Understand mine. I can stop the Aurors from bringing you before the Wizengamot, but if I can't show some reason, Reynard and others will demand my resignation and they'll put the both of us on trial."

Harry still didn't understand exactly what Scrimgeour was talking about. "What exactly do you want me to do?"

"Stop this charade!"

"And what charade would that—"

"We both know you didn't kill those wizards, Harry!" Scrimgeour replied loudly. "The past years may have turned you into a devious, manipulative, and frankly somewhat self-centered wizard, but they haven't turned you into a murderer. And I know you can prove it."

"Hold on," Harry said confusedly. "You believe me?"

It was Scrimgeour's turn to be bewildered. "Bloody hell, Harry. Of course I do. You're not the only one capable of hiding their true intentions. Shacklebolt was an old friend of Dumbledore's, and I suspect a good friend of yours. He's protected you far too many times for you to kill him so needlessly. I understand you, Harry. You would have made a fine Auror, but the hardest part for you would have been the occasional necessity of killing another wizard." He gave Harry a consoling look and continued before Harry had a chance to say anything.

"Oh, I know you've killed wizards. And I'm not counting Voldemort. By the time you dealt with him, he was less than a wizard and whatever his fate was, I doubt that a concept so simple and understandable as death described it. However, I'm certain there were others. Some of them probably within Britain."

Harry froze and stared at the Minister. Was that some sort of threat? Would Scrimgeour honestly try to blame Harry for the deaths of Charlie or the two Brotherhood members who had died during that attack?

"Relax, Harry," Scrimgeour said. "I have no intention of ever searching for such crimes. Even were they to exist, they would have been forgiven by the agreement which forgave your friends for their part in that business in September. More troublesome would be the question of what happened after that." He paused and waited for Harry to say something, but the room remained silent.

"After the attack on the Department of Mysteries, Miss Granger, Miss Weasley and her brother disappeared for a week. The very same day they reappeared, the Romanian Ministry reported that Grigore Tarus died mysteriously after a magical accident earlier that week."

"I didn't—" Harry started to protest.

"Don't worry, Harry," Scrimgeour told him. "I don't blame you. I always suspected something wasn't right with Tarus. He had too many friends with too much power, and yet that fact made it impossible to confront him. I am not surprised that he was a dark wizard. Would I be correct in assuming that there is a connection between his death and the attack this afternoon?"

"Y-Yes," Harry answered hesitantly.

"And you're confident that this Italian is the one who cast the curse that killed all those wizards?"

Harry nodded again.

"And you've got something beyond your word to back this story up?"

"Well, not really but—" Harry paused as a sudden realization hit him. "Actually, I think I might. Could you have them check the Keeper's body?"

"Not any more," Scrimgeour answered flatly. Then, gradually, a smile spread across his face. "Reynard already ordered them to check all of the bodies. Is there something you expect them to find?"

"Yes, I think so," answered Harry.

"Alright then. Shall we go back outside and put all this nonsense to an end?"

Harry followed silently as Scrimgeour opened the door and led him back into the lobby. The witches and wizards had been waiting for them in a tense silence. Reynard was pacing slowly and watching the two of them with suspicion.

"Have you learned anything new?" he asked sourly.

"I do not believe that Potter is responsible for these deaths," the Minister announced. "He simply does not have it within his character to commit such an atrocity. Had I known he was the one whom the Aurors found, I would have told them to follow his suggestions and keep looking. I fear we have lost our chance to find out who is truly responsible.

"Have you lost your mind!" shouted Reynard. "Or has Potter taken it from you? They found him standing in the middle of nineteen dead wizards! There was no one else who could have done such a thing!"

"I have heard this argument before, Auguste," the Minister replied coolly. "Some years ago, a wizard was found in much the same situation as Harry, surrounded by death and destruction. Many of us did just as you are doing now. We found the first explanation that presented itself and accepted it. Never mind that there was no proof, no reason, and that the entire idea conflicted with almost every report about the poor man's character."

"Sirius Black was a totally different circumstance!" Reynard argued vehemently. "There was evidence! He came from a family of dark wizards—"

"—And he was totally innocent!" Scrimgeour finished for him. "We have even less evidence in this case and you seem to be the only person claiming that Harry Potter —a hero by all accounts— has suddenly become a dark wizard."

"There are things you must know before—"

"I know everything I need to know at the moment," the Minister interrupted. "While there is little evidence to blame Harry for this tragedy, there is evidence which suggests that this might be related to the recent trouble in Romania. The fact that it happened at a Quidditch match and that it shows obvious malice toward Harry only strengthens this fact. Perhaps this Italian was working with the Romanians."

"That's preposterous!"

"Is it? Why did you order the Aurors to check the bodies? What did you expect to find?"

"Evidence of Potter's guilt!" Reynard snapped.

The Minister addressed the wizard who'd spoken about the wands earlier. "And did you find any?" he asked. The wizard shook his head weakly. "What about the Italian? Did you search him?"

"Yes, sir, but it was the Killing Curse, it doesn't leave—"

"What about a cut or burn?" Harry interjected. "It would have been someplace easy to reach, but not easy to see. Maybe the back of his neck or an arm."

The man furrowed his brows. "Er... Nothing either of those places," he replied, "but— we did find a cut. I never would have noticed, but it didn't seem to be healing properly. It was probably from a poorly cast healing charm. Quidditch players are notorious—"

"Where was it?" Harry questioned insistently.

"Oh, er... It was on his palm, long but not deep," he replied, holding up his own palm and drawing a path from the heel of his hand to the base of his index finger.

"That means nothing," Reynard groaned. "Potter is probably the one who put it there!"

"The Keeper was wearing gloves and heavy arm guards," the other wizard added. "They were in good shape and there was no sign that they'd been recently removed."

Reynard scowled at Harry and Scrimgeour. "Is that what you're going to tell them?" he growled. "You're going to say that he killed all of those people because of a scratch?"

"It's the same thing that happened to Marius Lipton," Harry explained. "If you check, I'm sure the wound will look very similar to the ones found on Marius and Mira Franklin."

"So you're going to blame this on some new mysterious disease?" asked Reynard. "A disease whose appearance coincided with Potter's?"

"Yes, and its first appearance was in one of your employees, Auguste," the Minister reminded him.

Reynard ignored the veiled accusation. "There is no time to waste on frivolous matters like studying diseases. Dozens of wizards are _dead_. No one can even prove this disease exists, and even if it does, it has infected four people at most. It's a distraction."

"We must do everything we can to find the cause of this," Scrimgeour said. "If we have witches and wizards available to find answers to these questions, I will not ignore them. No detail is trivial. We must learn as much as we can. If my fears are correct, there is a new dark lord stalking Britain."

"In that, at least, we agree," Reynard replied. "But you are too weak and blind to see the truth. I think we have already found him." He rounded on Harry and glared at him through narrowed eyes.

"You defeated Voldemort. It was a task which everyone believed impossible —even you. Somehow, you succeeded. Yet again, you accomplished something beyond the powers of any normal wizard. That was when it started, wasn't it?" Harry remained silent. Reynard simply stared at him.

"You believe everyone is beneath you. Or rather, you believe you're above them. You realized that you had accomplished things normal wizards cannot. You started believing that you were special and now you want to prove it to the rest of the world."

"I never asked for any of this," Harry declared.

"Perhaps not, but you got it, nonetheless. Perhaps we should have seen it long ago. You consume wizards, Harry," Reynard announced. "For all the wizards you've saved, you've left quite a bit of death in your path, and they are often those closest to you. Your parents were the first, of course." At this, Harry bristled yet said nothing.

"Your mother's protection would form the basis of your fame, and give you the opportunities you would need to grow even more powerful. Next was Sirius Black. He was the closest thing you had to a father. I expect you learned quite a bit from him —before he too died. Then there was Dumbledore. And then, only shortly later, Voldemort. With each death, you grew in power and confidence. You might not have caused their deaths, but you fed off them. After Voldemort, however, the war was over. There was no more death. But it was too late, wasn't it? You hungered for more. Your desire consumed you as you wandered Europe, leaving a broken trail of violent attacks from one country to the next. You killed Tarus because he found out what you were becoming."

"I didn't—" Harry began.

"You killed him because he realized that you were feeding off him!" Reynard shouted over him. "And in that act you realized that you had finally reached your goal. Now you've returned to take Voldemort's place."

"What are you saying, Auguste?"

"Harry is not what you think he is, Scrimgeour," Reynard spat. "He is no savior. He is not some protector re-emerging from the shadows to save us all. He is changed. He faced what may be the darkest wizard in recorded history and defeated him, but did not return unscathed. He has brought some of the darkness back with him. I have seen it, even if you cannot."

"I have heard too many of your dire warnings, Reynard," Scrimgeour replied flatly, "and I have allowed myself to be manipulated by them far too many times. How many more reports of our imminent destruction will I have to suffer through?"

Reynard's expression hardened. "Just one more," he whispered as he walked closer to the Minister. "This path you have chosen is perilous beyond anything you can comprehend. I have tried to help you make the right decision. For some time you listened, but Harry has clouded your judgment. I pray that you see your error before your foolish actions cost you your life and the lives of every witch and wizard in Britain."

The Minister simply smiled. "That was excellent, Auguste. Truly impressive. I believe that was one of the most eloquent speeches you've ever given. If you would remember, I used to hunt dark wizards. Harry is no more of a dark wizard than you are —and probably quite a bit less."

"Fool!" spat Reynard. With an enraged growl, he spun about on his heel and began striding toward the doors. With the tiniest gesture of one of his hands, six wizards who had been lurking in the shadows of the room stepped forward and followed close behind him. Before he even reached the doors, he held out one of his hands and barked a word Harry couldn't recognize. The doors leaped open, making the hinges scream under the strain. He passed through them, and with a turn of his hand, the doors slammed shut, nearly crushing one of the guards who had been standing nearby.

"He seemed surprisingly disappointed," the Minister commented. He looked up at the ceiling with a thoughtful expression. "I'd say that he actually thought he had me that time. Strange. It wasn't his most convincing attempt."

Scrimgeour turned to face the Auror who had led Harry from the pitch. "Carus, please return Harry's wand to him and apologize for the Ministry's mistake. I'm afraid I have a number of families to speak to. Please see that I'm not interrupted."

* * *

"Where did Josef go?" Harry asked sharply when he made it back to the Atrium. Ginny was standing with Ron and Hermione not far from the place he'd left her a short time ago. 

"He just left a few minutes ago," Ginny began explaining. "Something important came up and—"

"_Something important?_" Harry practically shouted. "And what was that at the pitch? An surprising development? I sent for him because I need him to tell me what he knows. If I'd have known he was going to run off as soon as he could, I wouldn't have wasted my time."

"It's not his fault, Harry," Ginny tried to tell him.

"Don't blame yourself," he replied quickly. "Josef knows more about what's going on than you know. He knows exactly why I called him. He left because he wanted to."

"It's not like that," she insisted. In a quieter voice, she explained how he had spotted Evelyn trying to leave the Ministry only a few minutes before he'd returned. "She's wretched to the very core, but it seems she's not wholly incompetent. She's found out enough about the Brotherhood that they're starting to take notice of her. Josef had to go. He's got to make sure the Brotherhood doesn't kill her."

Harry's anger began to ebb. Perhaps Josef had made the right decision after all. If Evelyn was killed, the Brotherhood wouldn't be able to move fast enough to destroy all the evidence of what she'd been doing down in Romania. When the Ministry found out, the situation there would quickly deteriorate. It simply wasn't worth it. Harry smiled bitterly. It was just the sort of thing that Grigore enjoyed. For the moment, the Brotherhood _needed_ Evelyn spying on them. So long as she was still looking for answers, she would remain quiet. It would buy them time to act.

His smile disappeared as he remembered just how the Brotherhood usually acted in such cases. Harry had seen it just three times, though the first had been while he was still a member. Once someone found out too much about them, there were only two options: joining the Brotherhood or dying. Luckily for Evelyn, death was a very unappealing option.

"They're not going to kill her. They're going to recruit her," Harry announced with disgust. "That's not at all what Harrington will want."

"They won't recruit her," Ginny disagreed. "They can't trust her. They understand Reynard and they know what to expect of Scrimgeour, but they're still confused about Harrington and Evelyn. They'll try to kill her quietly. They just don't know that's already impossible."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "And how do you know all that?"

"Josef talks to me," she replied flatly. "Maybe if you were a little nicer to him, he'd talk to you a little more."

"I tried being nice to him," Harry sighed. "He tried to kill me."

* * *

Harry spent the next few days pacing about Number Twelve Grimmauld Place and waiting for Josef to return to Britain. Hermione and Ron had disappeared almost completely. All of the upcoming World Cup matches had been rescheduled after Christmas save the three that were scheduled to be held the week before. All three of them were well away from Britain, and this along seemed to make everyone feel more comfortable. 

The _Daily Prophet_, along with almost every other wizarding news service, had failed to report the full story of the attack at the match in Cornwall. According to the _Prophet_, a small but fierce battle had broken out between spectators and players at the end of the match, and all of the destruction had been the result of this magical brawl. Of course, none of that explained why so few spectators were killed while quite a few Aurors had lost their lives. But then, that was a detail that few people seemed interested in.

The only real change had been a growing distrust of Britain and British wizards as a whole, and Harry was forced to accept more distrust than any other. The news that he had been on the pitch at the time of the worst of the fighting had disillusioned quite a few people across Europe. Some, who'd never really paid much attention to him, now talked about how their disinterest had been supported by Harry's lack of compassion. Others who had been watching him closely now spoke out both in words and short essays about how he was no different than any other worthless celebrity.

Perhaps the only good news was the knowledge that Scrimgeour had done his job well enough that no one really blamed Harry for any part of the attack. There had been a single article mentioning his arrest, but it had been removed and discounted quickly when the author of the piece could not be identified. Auguste Reynard refused to comment on the story beyond declaring that workers in the Department of Mysteries were far too busy to find time to write such things.

After nearly a week, Harry decided it had been long enough. He couldn't simply sit around waiting for Josef to find the time to return to Britain and speak with him. He'd gotten along without Josef's help for quite some time. There was no reason why he was suddenly helpless now.

The question which had been vexing him for the past few days was a simple one. Assuming the Auror had been telling the truth, Presagio had been attacked much the same way that Mira had, however, there simply wasn't any way that Marius Lipton could be responsible.

There was no doubt in Harry's mind that the attack at Cornwall had been meant to send a message to him. If Presagio had wanted to kill him, he would have. Since he didn't, Harry could only assume that he had planned to have Harry blamed for the attack. Presagio's death should have assured that, but he hadn't planned on Harry refusing to fight back. The Italian Keeper had been another puppet, just like Mira.

Unlike Mira, however, he hadn't been attacked by Marius Lipton. No one with any knowledge at all about Quidditch had expected Italy to beat Bulgaria. Without Viktor Krum's mistake, Cirillo Presagio would have had no reason at all to be in Britain. He must have been attacked after the match in Italy and by that time Marius Lipton had been dead for weeks.

So it was someone else. Perhaps the same wizard who had attacked Marius. Harry's mind immediately went to Reynard. He would have had plenty of time between the two matches to do it, and yet, Harry found himself doubting his own thoughts. There had been something odd in Reynard's reaction when the Auror had mentioned the cut on Presagio's hand. It wasn't that he didn't believe it or didn't understand it. Rather, it seemed that he simply hadn't anticipated it. He hadn't had any time to think up an explanation. Perhaps he truly didn't know that was where they would find the cut. That meant that someone else must have done it for him.

But who? It could be anyone. Reynard was the head of the Department of Mysteries. No one even knew how many wizards worked for him. It could have been any of them.

Or could it?

Perhaps Reynard didn't know about the cut because there hadn't been any time for him to hear about it. Both Marius and Mira had shockingly visible symptoms of their attacks. There had been nothing on the Italian wizard. The Aurors had not noted anything abnormal about the cut. It must have been quite recent.

The attacker had been at the match.

It made perfect sense. His first instinct had been correct. Reynard had stayed away from the match just to make sure Harry couldn't suggest he might be involved. Of course, there was still one problem: Presagio had been in the air the entire time. No one had gotten close enough to him to cut him with anything and even if they would have, he had been wearing leather gloves. It must have happened before the match. The possibilities were narrowing. They had only been at the pitch for an hour at most before they had come out to shake hands with the Ministry representatives before warming up. How many—

Harry froze and blinked silently into the fire at the far end of the parlor. They had come out to _shake hands_ with wizards from the Ministry. Harry remembered seeing the entire Italian team on the pitch. Presagio had seemed fine then. He had even shaken hands with Harry. If he had a cut the size of the one the Aurors said they'd found, the Italians would have made certain it was mended or wrapped the entire time.

Whoever attacked Cirillo Presagio worked for the Ministry.

Harry tried to remember all of the wizards who had been there. There hadn't been anyone from the Department of Mysteries —or at least, they didn't announce themselves that way. Harry knew all of the witches and wizards from the Department of International Magical Cooperation and Department of Magical Games and Sports. The only other people who had been there were the World Cup Officials and the Aurors.

A chill ran down Harry's spine. Of course. It had been so much simpler than he'd expected. Josef had warned him that at least one of the pairs of Aurors at Hogwarts were loyal to Reynard. Perhaps they were the ones behind all of the attacks. Harry hadn't recognized any of the Aurors before the match, but he hadn't really been paying attention to them either. It wouldn't have taken much for them to blend in. They could have brought whatever object Marius had used on Mira. It seemed to be the key. It also seemed to be missing.

In all the excitement during the night they visited Marius in the back room of the Hospital Wing, Harry had never really put much thought into one of the most telling details. Hermione said there was a mark on Marius's chest. This matched well with Mira's description of her attack, and yet, when they went to see Marius, it was gone. No one said the Aurors had visited the boy. In fact, they said no one was willing to spend any time around him. Someone must have taken it. He just needed to find out who.

"Hello, Harry? Are you here?" Ginny called out as she walked into the kitchen. Harry quickly awoke from his thoughts and stood up to greet her as her smiling face poked through the doorway into the parlor. "Ah, you are here."

"Yeah," Harry replied flatly. "Where else would I be?"

"Er... I don't know," she replied. "I guess it was nothing."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "_What_ was nothing?"

"Oh, well— Hermione was asking about you today," she explained lightly as she dropped into the cushioned chair across from Harry. She frowned and shook her head as through confused by her own thoughts. "She wanted to know if you had gone back to Hogwarts recently. I said you hadn't. You haven't, have you?"

"No. Why would I go to—" Harry stopped himself suddenly. Perhaps it wasn't such a bad idea.

"To talk to Mira, I guess," Ginny replied. "She's been getting better, but I think Hermione was afraid you'd go back and ask her more questions after... Well, Valencia said she thought Mira might be strong enough for visitors after a couple more weeks."

"Valencia?" Harry replied. "Not Madam Pomfrey?"

"Oh— Well I'd guess that Pomfrey would say the same thing," Ginny replied. "It's just that Valencia is a little more forthcoming with information. She's been keeping a close eye on Mira ever since Marius died. I'm worried she might be blaming herself. She was walking around the castle while both attacks happened and didn't see a thing."

Harry didn't respond. Suddenly his mind was racing to connect the information. Why had Valencia been walking around the castle so late at night? She had been one of the few people to see Marius between the time he was attacked and the time when Harry and the others saw him in the Hospital Wing.

He swore under his breath as he stood up and strode toward the kitchen. He should have listened to Josef. One way or the other, she must know more than she had been letting on. It was time for that to end.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Ginny called out as she ran to catch up with him. "Where are you going?"

"I think it's time to pay a visit to Mira," he replied sternly.

"But— But I just said—" Ginny stammered.

"I know," Harry replied flatly. "I'm counting on it."

* * *

Harry had slipped into the Hospital Wing without Madam Pomfrey even noticing. She was still in her office as Harry walked up next to Mira's bed. She simply smiled and looked up at him. 

"Hello, Harry," she greeted him weakly.

"Hello," he said, returning her smile. "I thought I might stop by and see how you were doing. I heard that you've been feeling better."

Mira sat up and gave Harry a curious look. "You're lying," she said confidently. "You're not here to talk to me."

"No," he replied. "I'm not."

"You're here for her," Mira continued. Harry gave her a curious look, but she just stared back at him coldly. "She's not what she says she is. She has two faces and only half a soul."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked. "Who are you talking about?"

"The old woman," Mira answered as if it had been obvious. "She's one of them, but she's not like others. She's cold."

"Are you talking about Valencia?" he prompted, hoping for a clearer answer.

"She's not what she appears," Mira whispered with sudden urgency. "She's more powerful than you know. She's dangerous. She's killed—"

The sound of opening doors echoed through the room, silencing Mira as quickly as any spell. Her eyes turned to stare in the direction of the sound of light boots walking across the stone floor. Harry stood and watched her reaction as the footsteps approached and finally stopped.

"You shouldn't be here," announced Valencia.

Harry turned around to glare at her. "Then we've got something in common."

"Miss Franklin needs her rest," she continued. "Answering your questions is far more tiring for her than you apparently understand. I'm going to have to ask you to leave immediately."

"Perhaps I could speak with you instead."

Valencia stared back at him, let out a long sigh and nodded stiffly. "Very well, Potter. Let's leave her to her rest."

Valencia spun around on her heels and walked briskly back to the door. Harry followed quickly, matching her pace. Once they reached the corridor, she led him to an empty room nearby and waved him through the door. As he stepped past her, he could see anger smoldering in her eyes. She entered immediately after him, slamming the door shut and confirming Harry's assessment of her mood.

"Have you been talking with your friend Josef?" she asked in a controlled tone.

"Why would you think—"

"_Have you been talking to Josef?_" she asked with sudden fury.

"No!" Harry shouted. "Perhaps if I had, I wouldn't have needed to come here searching for whatever it was that he found." Valencia relaxed slightly, though her eyes remained fixed on Harry. "What were you so worried about him telling me?"

"Mr. Kantos," she said with obvious disdain, "made a mistake in judgment. He is frightened and confused, and he began searching for someone to blame for this... tragedy," she said with a nod toward the Hospital Wing.

"And he found you, did he?"

Valencia smiled bitterly. "He is still young and foolish. He came here to ask questions he doesn't have the wisdom to understand. He got answers, but they weren't what he wanted. He got very upset. Arrogance can be a dangerous thing, but not nearly as dangerous as being arrogant and wrong."

"He wasn't wrong about everything though," Harry replied. "Your name isn't Valencia Desmoda, is it?"

"Ignorant child," Valencia hissed. "Don't make a fool of yourself as well."

"I read through the records myself," Harry said as his heart pounded in his chest. "There hasn't been anyone named Valencia Desmoda working at that library for a hundred years."

"Not according to the records, no," she replied with a dry smile.

"In fact, no one seems to know anything at all about Valencia Desmoda," continued Harry "There aren't any records of you attending any wizarding school in all of Europe. There are no records of any of your family members living in Spain. I even have a letter from Luis Sandoval saying that he's never heard of you."

"You have nothing," she replied dismissively. "You are just as misguided as he is."

"Perhaps someone else would see what I cannot. I wonder what McGonagall would think about all of this," Harry asked suggestively. However, Valencia was unfazed.

"She's already completely aware of the situation," she replied lightly. "Ask her yourself. You will not find my name in the library records because I arranged to keep it out of them. The administrator of the Library spoke to her about this months ago. As for the letter from Luis, I can only assume it is a fraud. Though, perhaps it is real and Luis felt that the request which prompted it was a fraud. He would not give out such a response without a good reason."

Harry tried not to let his annoyance show. Josef had sent a letter to one of the largest libraries in Europe. It was very possible that Sandoval had taken the time to research their mysterious benefactor and realized that Mr. Karnstein was the truly fictitious persona. It made sense, and yet Harry's suspicions remained. The topic left Valencia looking rather uncomfortable, as though she no longer wanted to speak with Harry but didn't want to risk walking away.

"I think there's more you're not telling me," he continued, remembering Mira's bizarre comments. "How is that you can see through Invisibility Cloaks? Why did you come to Hogwarts? Why do you always seem to be around whenever anything mysterious happens? "

"You are so much like Josef," she said with a quiet laugh. "You came all this way looking for an answer to one question, but you refuse to ask it."

She folded her arms across her chest and gave Harry a bored look. "There is something special about you, Harry. That is why I can see you. That is why you are so interesting to me, and that is why I am willing to tolerate your behavior right now. As for the rest of your questions, you will have to leave unsatisfied. My business is my own. Right now, you have plenty of other things to worry about. Do not interfere in my affairs," she warned him sternly. "I have no ill will toward you or your friend, but I will not allow you or Josef to stand in my way."

"I will stop these attacks," Harry replied defiantly, "no matter who I have to stand in the way of. This isn't the first time I've stood up to a dark wizard and I'm a lot stronger than most people understand."

Valencia let out a short laugh. "No, I don't doubt that," she said. "It takes quite a bit of concentration to conjure up as much irony as you just did." She walked closer to Harry, her smile melting off her face. "Watch yourself, Harry," she whispered. "You are wiser than that. I had hoped that you were more intelligent than them, yet here you are, standing before me and cleverly suggesting that I am the one they accused you of being."

"I didn't kill those people," Harry insisted.

Valencia flashed him a patronizing look. "Come now, Harry. I see what you're playing at. This ignorant act of yours is insulting to us both," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I am well aware of what these Brotherhood wizards accused you of being. Whatever you might be is of no great concern to me. This danger will pass, just as the last did, and the one before that."

"Then why are you so interested in Mira?"

"Because I have questions, and she will provide answers to them," she answered cryptically. "Just as you will."

"And why should I answer your questions if you won't answer mine?"

"You won't need to," she replied as she turned to walk toward the door. "The answers will find you."

* * *

As Harry ascended the winding staircase up to the Headmistress's office, he began to hear voices echoing softly in the darkness. It sounded as though Professor McGonagall was already speaking to someone. Harry frowned. He couldn't talk to the Headmistress about Valencia in front of anyone else. All he had at the moment were suspicions and guesses. The fewer the number of people who knew about it, the safer Harry felt about the whole thing. He would just have to return some other time. Perhaps he could talk to Lupin instead. 

He turned to walk back down the stairs, but paused as the voices rose slightly in volume. He recognized the other voice. It was Hermione. Why had she told him she was leaving if she had wanted to speak with McGonagall? Though he knew he shouldn't, Harry turned around again, and slowly began creeping up the stairs. When he reached the door, he carefully leaned close to it so he might hear the conversation on the other side.

"Yes, of course, I'd be happy to do that for you," McGonagall said. Harry thought he detected confusion in her voice. Her next comment confirmed this. "Could I ask why? I thought you were pleased with where you were living."

"Oh, I am," Hermione replied. "It's just that... Well, my own department doesn't trust me. They've been watching my flat ever since we returned from Romania. It's not the most comfortable way to work."

"I wouldn't think it was even a comfortable way to live," commented McGonagall. "What about Sirius's old house? Are they watching it as well?"

There was a moment of silence. Harry began to fear that they might have guessed someone was outside the door. "I'm trying to keep my distance from Harry and Ginny," Hermione eventually responded.

"Ah, I suppose that might be a good idea," McGonagall agreed. "Harry has been getting himself in quite enough trouble. Merlin only knows what would happen if the Ministry were to actually watch everything he did."

"Right," answered Hermione faintly. "I do much of my work here anyway. I guess it just seemed logical."

McGonagall said something in response, but Harry couldn't quite make out what it was. He pressed his ear against the door to try and hear a little better.

"...a few empty rooms in the Professors' Wing. They've been vacant for a while, but I'm certain the house elves would love to clean one up for you."

"Oh, that's very kind of you," started Hermione, "but I wouldn't want to intrude on the other professors like that.'

"Oh, it's no intrusion. They all think the best of—"

"I couldn't," Hermione said with a little more force. "I would feel a lot more comfortable in the old charms tower or one of the offices on the seventh floor."

"But those have been abandoned for years."

"I know, but I could use the extra space," replied Hermione. "I... I don't really know what I'll be doing but I think it will be safer for everyone if I stay in the empty parts of the castle."

"Yes, of course. I understand," said McGonagall. "I'll talk to Argus. I think we can close off the old charms tower for you. Was there anything else?" There was another stretch of silence. "What is it, Miss Granger?"

"I had some... questions about..." Hermione's voice trailed off and left Harry wishing he still carried an Extendable Ear with him. "How much do you know about accidental magic?"

McGonagall let out sharp huff. "More than I should care to, I'm afraid."

"What sorts of spells can you perform with accidental magic?"

It took a moment for McGonagall to reply. "Well, none of course. Accidental magic is unfocused and disorganized by nature. Though many of the things which happen can be duplicated by more talented wizards with true spells, the effects of accidental magic are almost always chaotic and unpredictable. I certainly wouldn't call any of the results a _spell_."

"Yes, I suppose," Hermione agreed, "but things like breaking or hovering things is still pretty common. The effect is easy enough to understand, even if it's not really controlled. Is there any limit to the things that can be done through accidental magic?"

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, er... I guess I was wondering just how powerful accidental magic can be. Could you levitate a house or... or stun a dragon?"

"Well, I suppose it depends upon the witch or wizard," McGonagall replied, "but those tasks are well beyond the ability of almost any wizard —even with their full concentration. To imagine an untrained wizard accomplishing such a thing by accident is pure fantasy."

"But isn't it true that accidental magic can be more powerful than the magic a witch or wizard uses when they actually focus?" Hermione asked. "Isn't that how young witches and wizards are found? There are things I did as a child that I still can't really do now."

"Yes, but now you are capable of actually controlling your ability," McGonagall announced as if lecturing a class. "The magic you used before your years here at Hogwarts was _unfocused_. It does not matter how powerful the magic was. Magic is useless unless it can be focused and controlled."

"Yes, of course," Hermione mumbled in frustration, "but isn't it true that through accidental magic, witches and wizards can do things that they couldn't were they to consciously try?"

"To some degree, I suppose. A fire burning in a fireplace might burn as hotly as a bonfire, but in the end it is far more effective. Even if accidental magic were more powerful, it could not be harnessed and directed in the way that careful concentration and the use of a wand allows us."

"What if you could?" Hermione asked.

"Well then it would not be accidental," McGonagall replied simply. "The moment you are able to direct magic, it is no longer accidental. It may still be uncontrolled, but that is entirely the fault of the caster, not the magic."

"But that would require a wand."

"Yes, of course it would, Miss Granger," the Headmistress replied. Harry could hear the frustration in her voice. He didn't need to see her to know the expression on her face. "You know all of this already," she said. "This is the very basis of magic."

"If we were to assume that a very powerful wizard lost control of his emotions," Hermione began, "would it be possible for him to cast a curse without truly intending it? Could he do it accidentally and without a wand, based solely on some unconscious desire for it to happen?"

"Well... I—" McGonagall stammered for a moment. "What sort of wizard—"

"A very powerful one," Hermione answered immediately. "As powerful as he would need to be."

"Well, I suppose anything is possible. Certainly you know as well as I do that the mind of a wizard is a powerful thing. A number of the most powerful spells have been found accidentally, in situations not so different than what you described. Of course, not every spell could be possible, it would have to—"

"What about the Imperius Curse?" Hermione interrupted. "Or the Killing Curse?"

"The Killing— Well, that's different. That takes quite a bit of—"

"Could he cast it twenty times at once?" she added.

"Twenty times?" McGonagall cried. "I don't know what your colleagues in the Department of Mysteries have been telling you, but casting a powerful curse like the Killing Curse isn't something that can be done easily or lightly. It takes focused desire and... malice," she added with distaste. "It is not the sort of thing that most wizards are capable of."

"If the wizard were extremely powerful," Hermione continued pressing, "could he do it without knowing what he'd done?"

After a moment of silence, the Headmistress responded. "I don't think any wizard could possibly do that, Miss Granger. Not even Lord Voldemort could have done something so vile. The effort it takes to simply kill a single wizard is not insignificant. To kill so many at one time... I'm sorry, Miss Granger, but I very much doubt any wizard could be filled with the hatred and rage required for such a thing, much less be unaware of it. I don't believe anyone could live like that and the thought of trying to control all of it at one time..."

"So... it's not possible," Hermione said in a defeated tone. "They would have to know what they'd done."

"Yes, they would," answered McGonagall firmly. "Is there a purpose to these questions? What is this really about? Is there a dark wizard trying to figure out how to perform such a curse?"

"No," Hermione answered heavily. "Someone already has."

There was a long stretch of silence and Harry began feeling nervous. Were they whispering? Would he be able to hear them if they were? The door was fairly thick. It was somewhat surprising that he'd been able to hear them as well as he had.

"Thank you for your time, Professor," Hermione called out. Her voice was surprisingly loud and Harry jumped back away from the door.

"Well, I'm sorry I could not give you any more information," the Headmistress replied.

"It's alright," replied Hermione. "I heard what I needed to hear, and so did Harry, I hope."

Only a few steps from the door, Harry froze and blinked in surprise. Did she know that he was there? How could that be possible?

McGonagall sounded equally surprised. "Harry? You mean Harry Potter? What does any of this have to do with him?"

The door in front of Harry swung open and a soft golden light filled the staircase as Hermione stared at him. "I don't know," she announced. "I just hope he does." She slipped past him with a frozen expression, leaving him alone on Professor McGonagall's doorstep.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

It's been a while. Sorry. There are more chapters and the story isn't dead. Quite the contrary. I'm nearly halfway done with Chapter 22 and on the home stretch toward finishing 'Amulet of Stone'. Stay tuned. More chapters are on the way, including a couple you won't want to miss. As always, feel free to email me if you're extra curious or have any questions.


	19. An Advancing Darkness

_This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

**CHAPTER 19**

**An Advancing Darkness**

* * *

"Again?" Harry groaned as Ginny finished reading a piece of parchment delivered by owl a minute earlier. "I've delivered eight packages in the last ten days! I spent all of last weekend Apparating across Europe for him." 

"Oh, shut up, Harry," replied Ginny. "You know some of us have real jobs. I've been working longer hours than you, and you don't see me complaining."

"That's because you're not the one who has to go back to the Ministry at midnight."

Ginny looked up from the parchment to glare at him. "Try again, Harry. He's asked me to come as well."

"He wants to talk to both of us?" Harry asked suspiciously. "At the same time?" Suddenly, Harry no longer cared about the treacle tart on the plate in front of him. For quite some time, Ferdinand Harrington had taken extraordinary measures to make certain that Harry and Ginny weren't around each other at the Ministry. He claimed that he was doing it to keep Reynard from making baseless accusations about the two of them. Harry wondered if it had more to do with simply keeping the two of them apart and working instead of distracting each other.

The fact that he'd called them both meant that he had some important reason to speak with them. At the moment, Harry could think of only a few. The most likely possibilities would revolve around either Auguste Reynard or Mira Franklin. While both of those topics were interesting to Harry, he didn't really think they were worth losing yet another night to learn another pointless bit of information about them.

All of the work Harrington had been giving him had been keeping him from trying to track down more information about Valencia. He was certain that she was hiding something; he just didn't know where to look. The more he thought about it, the more certain he was that there was something he was missing.

Valencia seemed to have a strange presence which Harry found both disturbing and comforting at the same time. The little time he'd been able to spend researching her had turned into a string of good ideas which were discarded an hour later when he simply realized that he was on the wrong track. He instinctively knew what he was looking for, he just couldn't quite find it, and it was doubtful that he'd find anything in Harrington's office. Still, Harrington thought he had something interesting to tell them, so it was probably more productive than another night looking through Spanish prison records or transcripts of various meetings of the International Library Committee.

"Fine, then," he replied in defeat. "This better be important though. If he's calling us in to talk at midnight just to save himself from having to call me in during your normal work hours, I'll hex his nose off."

* * *

Harry was still rather disgruntled when he Apparated into the Ministry just before midnight. Earlier that night he'd gotten a reply from the Department of Records regarding his request for any information about recent Floo connections to Spain. He didn't know exactly what he was looking for, but whatever he found would help him eliminate some of the possibilities he'd been toying with over the last couple weeks. 

"You're getting a little obsessive about this, Harry," Ginny whispered in response to one of his mumbled complaints.

"Oh, sorry," he replied quietly. "I get that way when people try to blame me for murdering dozens of wizards."

"Yes, that's understandable, but why Valencia? Last month you thought that Reynard was doing all of it. Before that it was Grigore."

Harry turned to glare at her. "You were the one who said that Valencia was acting strangely. Josef said the same thing. She knows too much and she always seems to be around whenever odd things are happening. I'm not saying that she's the one behind it all," hissed Harry, "I'm just saying that Josef has a point. She doesn't have a history. It's like she never existed. That's unheard of for a librarian, but required for Unspeakables."

"Oh, now you think she's an Unspeakable?" Ginny replied with a roll of her eyes.

"You have a better explanation?" he shot back. "You think she's just an eccentric librarian? Remember that book she showed us? Do you have any idea what it takes to be allowed to simply read it? It's a crime to move it out of the vault they store it in, and Valencia forced them to send it through the Floo Network."

"I'm not saying there isn't something strange going on, Harry," Ginny whispered as they neared the security guard at the desk. "I'm just saying that we shouldn't jump to conclusions."

"Evening, Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley," the guard called out in a bored tone. He looked up just long enough to nod at them before turning his eyes back down to his book.

Harry nodded in response. "I'm not jumping to conclusions," he hissed back at Ginny. "I don't have any conclusions to jump to. I'm just jumping."

"Oh, and you want me to jump with you?" Ginny replied flatly. "No, thanks."

"Good Evening," announced a voice from somewhere behind Harry. "Prompt as always."

He turned around to find Ferdinand Harrington standing in one of the dark corners next to the large golden security gates. He wasn't smiling, and his expression was tense and thoughtful. More out of instinct than fear, Harry looked about for anyone else who might be watching.

"We're alone," he whispered. "The guard won't hear us, either. I put a bit of a charm on the gateway."

"Why are you _here_?" asked Ginny. "The message said that you wanted to speak to us in your office."

"Yes," Harrington replied stiffly, "that's precisely why I wanted to meet you here, but— Well, we should go. It's not safe enough to speak here." He turned and walked a short way to the nearest lift and pressed the button to call it down.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked.

"Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes," he answered in a clear voice. The lift appeared later and he quickly led Harry and Ginny into the lift.

The grates closed with a clatter and seconds later the lift began its ascent. The three of them waited silently as the grates opened on a black lobby on the seventh level. Harry had done this far too many times and it annoyed him that the lifts insisted on stopping at every level. A few moments later the grates opened again, this time on a darkened Level Six. Before Harry understood what was happening, Harrington was pushing him and Ginny out of the lift and into the small lobby.

"What was that about?" Harry cried as the doors shut behind them and the lift lurched upwards. "I thought you said—"

"I know what I said," Harrington interrupted. "I would much rather be a liar than a victim of an unexplained accident."

"Is that likely?" Ginny asked confusedly.

"All too likely, I'm afraid," answered Harrington. Before they could ask any more questions, he led them down a series of dim corridors to an unmarked office at the end of a line of cubicles. Once inside, he locked the door, cast a quick spell on it, then lit a number of candles about the small room.

"Something is happening," he said in a soft, yet urgent voice. Harry and Ginny exchanged confused looks. "You haven't noticed?" Harrington questioned them.

"Well, I mean..." stammered Harry. "What sort of thing are you talking about?"

"I'm not the only one who's noticed it," Harrington replied almost defensively. "Whatever it is, it's serious, and I think you two know more about it than you're telling me."

Harry didn't know what to say. Harrington didn't seem to be expecting him to say anything so he just gave a quick nod and asked him what he knew. "There have been strange things happening at Hogwarts," he announced. In an instant, he had Harry and Ginny's full attention.

Harrington spoke quickly, but explained everything in as much detail as he could. In the past few days, a number of people had seen a strange wizard walking about the castle. He had been described as wearing a dark grey cloak with a deep hood that covered his face. Harrington had only heard about it because one of the Aurors had slipped away to report directly to Reynard. "He's been seen a half dozen times. No one has been able to even get close to him. Whoever it is, they know their way around the castle pretty well. Judging by the places they saw him, he's pretty interested in the attacks."

"Josef," Harry replied immediately.

"That was my first guess," replied Harrington. "If it were that alone, I wouldn't have called you here, except perhaps to have you tell your friend to show a bit more caution. There was quite a bit of activity in the Department of Mysteries as well. They're searching for something... or someone."

The answer seemed obvious to Harry. Josef must have found something. If it was something damaging to Reynard, they would hunt Josef down. At the last meeting, Reynard had shown more than enough anger to kill a wizard who might threaten his plan. "Josef found something. They must be hunting him."

"That's probably true," agreed Harrington, "but they're not the only ones trying to find Josef. I'll admit that I haven't seen him since Cornwall. I suspect that you haven't either. We've been hearing about subtle questions from the Romanian officials in France for the World Cup. They've been trying to send him messages, but no one is picking them up."

While somewhat strange, Harry explained that this wasn't terribly odd. If Josef thought he was close to finding something, he would never risk the chance that fetching messages might ruin whatever progress he'd made.

"And then, just this evening, I got a message from a friend in Magical Law Enforcement. Under orders from Reynard they intercepted an owl. I have no idea what the message said, but it was apparently from Minister Debreczeni in Romania to Josef. My friend said no one really understood what the message was supposed to mean, but within minutes Reynard had called for four more Aurors to be sent to Hogwarts. They searched the castle, and found nothing at all."

"Well he did spend quite a bit of time evading them over the past year," commented Harry, even though at that time he had only been hiding from two or four Aurors, not ten. Hiding from ten of them would be extremely difficult and nearly impossible if they had been using the same methods they had tried when they were looking for Harry.

"Yes, I had not overlooked that, but the more important thing here is that Reynard isn't the only one who can't find him. His own Ministry can't find him either." Harrington sighed and began pacing the room as he continued his explanation. From the little they knew about the message Dragomir had sent, it sounded as though it was not the first.

As if that weren't enough, sending extra Aurors to Hogwarts wasn't the only thing Reynard had done that day. A number of wizards had been sent to St. Mungo's to collect all the records of the attack at Cornwall. Other's had been dispatched to call all of the Unspeakables back to Britain.

"What is he playing at?" Ginny asked. "What could he possibly need that many Unspeakables for?"

"Well, if I had to guess, I'd say he's got a big problem he's trying to solve," replied Harrington, "—or start."

"Bloody hell," Harry whispered. "He's planning something big. Josef must have done something to force him to act."

"That's precisely why I called you two here tonight," explained Harrington. "I couldn't get a message to Miss Granger or your brother. I suspect they have noticed something odd by now. I can only hope that they have no idea what is happening, because if they did—"

"We need to tell the Minister," Harry insisted.

"There's nothing to tell! All I've got are rumors from an old friend," the older wizard said in exasperation. "There seems to be only one person who knows what's going on right now. If anyone has a chance of finding him, it's the two of you."

"How are we supposed to find him if no one else has?" asked Ginny.

Harrington shrugged. "I honestly don't know. Did he tell you anything about what he had been doing?"

Harry perked up immediately. "He was looking for some connection between Reynard, Valencia Desmoda and the attack at Cornwall."

"Ahh," replied Harrington. "That might explain quite a bit."

Harry looked down at his clothes. He had purposefully left his heavier robes and traveling cloak at home in an attempt to make Harrington feel guilty if he asked Harry to deliver something. It was a pointless gesture which he knew he would soon regret.

"I need to go to Romania," he announced. Ginny whirled about to stare at him. "Josef won't have stuck around Hogwarts. He didn't come to us, so Romania is the only other possibility."

"Then you'll have to look somewhere else," Harrington warned him. "Remember, the Romanians don't know where he is. They're looking for him just as urgently as we are. And even if he had gone there, it would take far too long to find him."

"Well, _someone_ needs to go there and—"

"Evelyn just returned from Romania just a few hours ago," he interrupted. "I called her back as soon as I could. It seems I had her looking in the wrong place. All this time I expected it to start in Romania, but it was right here in the Ministry. I asked her about Josef, but she said she hadn't seen or heard anything about him. You're welcome to speak to her yourself, of course."

"I'd rather go to Romania," grumbled Ginny.

However, Harry didn't dismiss it so quickly. Evelyn had been trying to find the Brotherhood. If they were trying to contact Josef, they must know that something odd was happening as well. Perhaps all he had to do was find out what they were doing. That alone might give him a good idea of what he needed to do.

"I might know someone who could be helpful," Ginny announced. Both Harry and Harrington turned to stare at her. "A nice chap called Lord Albert," she said with a warning look toward Harry. "He's always hanging around the _Leaky Cauldron_. He hears all sorts of stuff."

Harrington looked doubtful and opened his mouth to say something, but Harry quickly cut him off: "That sounds good. You go have a drink with Albert and I'll see what Evelyn has to say."

Ginny's expression soured and her eyes narrowed. "Harry," she said in a tight voice, "you know how I feel about her. She's not—"

"She's the only one who's been to Romania recently," he replied pointedly. "Anyway, I can't go with you. Albert won't talk if I'm there. He's friends with you, not me." This didn't do much to soften her expression, but she didn't argue either. "Is Evelyn in her office or at home?" Harry asked Harrington, then stopped to wonder aloud: "Does she have a home?"

"She claims she does," he replied, "but she never uses it. But you won't find her in either place tonight. She went to St. Mungo's." Harrington paused and began searching through his pockets. After a brief moment, he pulled out a folded scrap of parchment and his wand. With a quick flick of the wand, the scrap curled into a haphazard roll and sealed itself with a glittering golden seal. "There you are," he said as he handed the scroll to Harry. "If anyone tries to stop you, tell them you have an urgent message for Evelyn Sibley."

"Harry, do you have to talk to her?" Ginny complained. "She's not going to know anything. She'll just waste your time."

"It'll be no worse than if I waited outside the _Leaky Cauldron_."

"Not for you," she grumbled.

"Ginny," he said as he reached out to grab her shoulders. "Relax. She might have something useful to say. It's not like we're going to be snogging in the middle of St. Mungo's, I just—" Harry paused a moment while Ginny threw him a revolted glare. "—I just need to see what she's got to say, alright?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Fine," she whispered. "Go do what you have to do. I'll wait for you at the _Leaky Cauldron_."

"No," Harry replied immediately. "No public places this time. I trust... Albert to know what to do. Otherwise, Harrington is right. This is a time for secrecy and hiding. I'll wait for you in the lobby at St. Mungo's. I've got business there," he said, holding up the scroll. "After that... Well, I hope we figure something out."

Ginny didn't seem terribly happy with the plan, but she agreed. Harrington carefully opened the door and after checking the corridor, ushered them out of the room. Harrington took a lift headed up to Level Five and left Harry and Ginny alone and waiting for their own lift. After a silent ride down to the Atrium Level, they walked past the guard and out to the large fountain which gurgled and splashed as playfully as ever.

"I'll see you soon," Harry said in a quiet voice. He reached for his wand and prepared to Disapparate.

"Harry!" Ginny called out just before he disappeared. "Just... be careful."

"I will," he replied with a crooked smile. "And if I'm not, what better place to get injured?"

* * *

Ginny Apparated to Diagon Alley and quickly walked toward the _Leaky Cauldron_. Like Harry, she hadn't prepared to spend any time in the winter air beyond the walk across Grimmauld Place. Of course, it wasn't a problem for him. He was at St. Mungo's where every room had a fireplace and the floors were charmed to keep them warm. 

The only thing that kept her from shivering on her short walk to the pub was her smoldering anger over the thought of Harry talking with Evelyn. She was an unbearable person. Ginny thought she'd never loathe anyone as much as Draco Malfoy, yet Evelyn Sibley seemed to take disgusting pleasure in testing that prediction. Ginny just couldn't understand how anyone could despise someone they'd barely met that much.

However, around Harry she was completely different. She was polite and cheerful, talking as though everyone was her friend, though no one else could stand being around her. She was interesting and patient and flattering. She seemed happy and friendly.

And completely fake.

A fresh flame of anger licked at Ginny's stomach. She only did it because of how furious it made Ginny. After every time that Harry talked with her, she would spend the next few days tossing smug glances at Ginny whenever they passed each other. She knew that it enraged Ginny and it only made her happier to be able to gloat about it.

Ginny tugged open the door to the _Leaky Cauldron_ and strode quickly to the bar. There was no point in searching the room. If Albert was there, Tom would know. Anyone sober enough to understand how odd that was would have already noted that it was quite unusual for her to show up at that hour.

"Miss Weasley," Tom called out as she approached. "Didn't expect to see you here. It's a bit— Are you alright? I don't think I've ever seen you this angry. Did some bloke—"

"No," Ginny replied, shaking her head. "No, it's... It's nothing. I just need to find Albert."

"Albert, you say," Tom said with a frown. "Is he the one you're angry at? Did that fool go and say something stupid again? He's had a rough day."

"No, it's nothing, really," she insisted. "Is he here?"

"Of course," Tom replied, pointing off to a shadowy corner of the room. Ginny thanked him and quickly made her way through the tables to the small rickety table where Albert sat waiting for her. He appeared to be in the middle of a rather loud, obnoxious conversation with a seriously inebriated wizard in tattered robes at the next table, but as she walked toward him, he never took his eyes off her.

As she reached the table, he finally turned away and said something to the raucous wizard who stopped talking immediately and glared at Albert as if he'd just been insulted horribly. Albert merely turned away from him and stared at Ginny. She tried to ignore the subtle darkness behind his eyes as she sat down.

"Evening, Ginny," he said with a transparent smile. "How frightfully unexpected of you to show up."

Ginny didn't know what to say. Something was obviously bothering him. She remembered Tom's earlier comment and began to wonder what it might have been about. "Bad day at the office?" she asked as she sat down.

He let out a short grunt of a laugh. "If you only knew," he replied. With a sigh, he pulled a spare glass out of his robe pockets and set it in the center of the table. Before Ginny could say a thing, he had already filled it from the bottle he kept with him.

"That's alright," she tried to tell him. "I'm really not in the mood—"

"Trust me, you really are," he insisted. He gave her a hard look and slid the glass in front of her. She made a move to push it away, but he didn't let her. "You're going to need it," he told her. "I only wish I could help more. I'd give you this bottle, but I'm afraid this is the last one I've got."

"I doubt that," Ginny said as she stared down into the amber liquid. "I'd wager you have a dozen or more of those back in the castle."

Albert flashed a genuine smile. "Yes, perhaps, but _this_ one," he said, tapping on the side of the glass bottle, "I fully expect to be the last one I ever use."

Ginny shook her head. Even when he was in a bad mood he made jokes. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and poured the potent contents of the glass down her throat as quickly as she could. It helped a little bit. After she managed to lift her head off the table, she found Albert waiting for her patiently.

"How come you're not drinking?" she croaked. Her fingers were still burning and her muscles hadn't quite relaxed yet, but her vision was clear enough to see that his glass was also empty. It was one of the first times she'd ever seen him with an empty glass for more than a minute or so.

"This isn't a drink for celebrations," he replied heavily.

"It's not a drink at all," she commented. "It's a poison that somehow manages to consistently fail."

"This is a drink for thinking and understanding," he continued, ignoring her comments. "Perhaps if I had been drinking more, we wouldn't be in this position. Of course, there's no point in apologizing for what's done. These things happen for a reason, you know."

"What sort of things?" Ginny asked as the fog lifted from her mind, revealing her surroundings in sharper focus. She turned her gaze on him and noticed something odd about his behavior. Outwardly, he was his usual bizarre self, but there was something else beneath the surface. He was _nervous_, she suddenly realized. Something had shaken him. "Someone came here to speak with you earlier," she said. "Someone was angry with you."

He nodded solemnly. "It seems I failed in my duties."

"You failed because you didn't understand something?" she asked. He nodded. "So why stop drinking?" she continued. "There's something more, isn't there?" She looked down at her empty glass as Albert reached across the table to fill it again. "It helps you think clearly," she thought out loud. "What don't you want to think about?"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll figure it out sooner than you'd like," he replied. "You're a very clever woman." He looked down at his glass, and very slowly tipped the bottle over to pour a very small amount into the bottom. "I'll have need to think again soon, but I had hoped... I hoped I might pass one night without that burden."

"It's Josef, isn't it?" she pressed him. "You know he's disappeared. Do you know where he is?"

"No," he said flatly as he swirled the liquid in his glass in front of his eyes. "Not a soul in the world knows. The problem is, I wasn't supposed to let that happen." He let out a tired sigh and drank the contents of the glass. "It's too bad. Who knows how much trouble will come of it?" he commented. "I suppose it will work out in the end. It always does."

"You were supposed to be watching Josef?" she asked. "But you spent all your time here?"

"I never said I was watching him," he replied. "I just kept track of him, you know. Checking to see where he'd been going, what he'd been getting up to. I thought I was clever. It was easy to keep an eye on him. I just had to keep an eye on you." He flashed a brief smile, but his eyes were filled with guilt. "He asked you to join the Brotherhood, didn't he?"

"Er— Why would you— I—" she stammered for a moment. "He told you?"

Albert laughed and poured himself a full glass. "No," he replied with a smile. "It just seemed to make sense." He quickly drank the glass, and looked her straight in the eyes. "Did you do it?"

"I— Does it really..."

"Never mind," he interrupted with a quiet laugh. "It really doesn't matter, trust me. I won't think less of you either way." He gazed reluctantly at the bottle in his hand, then slowly poured himself yet another glass. "You came here for some reason," he said in an emotionless tone. He was staring down at his drink, looking just as frightened of it as Ginny had been. "It's about Josef, isn't it?"

"What's happened to him?" Ginny asked. "Why were you watching him? Why is the Brotherhood trying to send him messages."

"You must understand," he began slowly. "I am not the only one who hasn't been doing their duty, and I'm not the only one who's displeased people who trusted me." Albert smiled bitterly and raised his glass in salute to her. She mimicked his gesture, and together they emptied their glasses.

Ginny forced her eyes open and looked up at Albert. "You're talking about Josef again. Why is the Brotherhood upset with him?"

"Dragomir and the rest of the Brotherhood have begun questioning his loyalties."

"His loyalties? You're mental," she replied. "He's done everything we ask of him. He's done everything he can to help us."

"Yes, I do believe that's the problem," Albert commented. "He's done everything he can to help Harry and especially you," he added pointedly. "He knows that Harry can handle himself, but instead of letting him worry about you, Josef took on that responsibility as well." Albert leaned forward and dropped his voice. "For the first time since it was formed, the Brotherhood knows precisely what it needs to do. However, it is a monumentally difficult task. They need all the help they can get. They need Josef."

"Why?"

"Josef knows Harry better than anyone outside of you, your brother and Miss Granger," he explained. "The Brotherhood needs him so they can understand Harry. Harry is—"

"Don't you dare suggest he is somehow responsible for this!" Ginny hissed.

Albert glared at her and leaned closer. "Harry is—"

"Anything to drink, Miss Weasley?" Tom called out from behind Ginny. "Anything a little more normal, that is," he said once he saw the used glass in front of her. Before she could answer, Albert's voice broke through the air in the pub.

"Oh yes of course, Tom," he called out. "I'm old and she's still quite young. If I'm planning on taking her home with me, it's going to take a bit more than a butterbeer. What do you say, Ginny?" he asked, waving his bottle at her. "A nice ale? Maybe some Dragonsnout Stout? It's on me, of course."

"Fine," she answered, wanting nothing more than a little privacy. "Just ale, though."

"Smashing!" cried Albert. "Bring a mug of your finest ale, a bottle of the best of the stuff they call Firewhiskey, and for me... I'll just have a small glass of brandy."

Ginny frowned at him. "I don't drink Firewhiskey."

"Well, drink it or waste it, because I'm paying for it."

"You're bloody mental if you think I'm going to drink that," she commented.

"No, I'm drunk," he corrected her. "It's less confusing than being mental. You should give it a try."

"I'll pass, thanks."

Tom laughed and nodded at the two of them and walked back toward his bar. Other patrons called out orders or simple greetings as he left and Josef watched him carefully to see that he wasn't going to return. Once Tom made it back to the bar, Albert leaned forward and continued where he left off.

"Whether you want to hear it or not, Harry Potter is the key to everything that has happened over the last year, everything that is happening right now and everything that is going to happen. Josef promised the Brotherhood he would keep an eye on Harry—"

"You mean _spy_ on him?" she interrupted.

"I mean watch him," he replied sharply. "I'm sure you've noticed that Harry isn't always terribly good at sharing information. He knows more than he's willing to tell the Brotherhood."

"Well, they did try to kill him," Ginny added in explanation.

"Grigore was confused," Albert replied dismissively. "The Brotherhood is convinced they are on the same side as Harry now. Harry should be trying to help them, no matter how understandable his reluctance might be. Josef was supposed to act as the link between Harry and the Brotherhood, but he hasn't been doing as he promised. He's helping you, he's helping Harry and he's been ignoring the Brotherhood."

"So these messages the Brotherhood is trying to send," said Ginny, "they're what... reprimands?"

"No. They are pleas for help."

"What?" she responded in sudden confusion. "Why?"

"Because bad things have been happening," he answered. "You know this. You've seen some of them, but far from all of them. It's getting worse. The Brotherhood is trying to fight it, but they don't know how. They don't know who's responsible or how it's happening. They had been counting on him to help them find answers to those questions."

"That's exactly what he was doing," Ginny said in Josef's defense. "We think he figured out what was happening and that's why he disappeared. Auguste Reynard is looking for him, too. He might be trying to keep Josef from telling anyone what he found."

"What does Harry think?" he asked suddenly. "What is it that they were looking for?"

"They were convinced that the Hogwarts librarian was involved," she explained. "I think Josef was trying to find some proof."

Albert sat back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. "Valencia Desmoda..." he groaned. "Why didn't I see this earlier?"

"What is it? You know her?"

"I have heard her name, yes," Albert answered. "I know her well enough that I would have told Josef to stay well away from her."

"Why?"

"That doesn't matter now," he said as he stoppered the bottle of liquor in his hand and stuffed it into his robes. "She's at Hogwarts and if you want to end this, that's where you'll want to be as well." He stood up and pulled a heavy cloak around his shoulders. "Just be sure to tell Harry that he's not to interfere with Madam Desmoda. He can be foolish in whatever other way he likes, but see that he doesn't meddle with her."

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"It appears I have work to do," he answered. "Don't worry about me. I have my part to play and you have yours. See that Harry plays his as well."

* * *

The witch behind the Enquiries desk looked up at Harry with an annoyed frown. He tried to appear apologetic, but there was only so much sympathy he could gather for someone whose idea of annoyance was being wrenched away from an old _Daily Prophet_ and forced to do her job. 

"I've got an urgent message for Evelyn Sibley," he announced.

The witch looked unimpressed. "Drop it off and we'll see that she gets it when she leaves."

"I'm afraid I can't do that," he replied, already knowing how much she would like hearing it. "I need to deliver this immediately."

With a roll of her eyes, the witch put down her copy of the _Prophet_ and stared up at Harry. "You work for the Ministry?" she asked coldly.

Harry nodded. "Department of International Magical Cooperation. I have a message from Ferdinand Harrington."

The witch let out a pained sigh and reached for a small silver bell sitting on the corner of her desk. It let out a clear twinkling chime and the witch promptly picked up her _Prophet_ and went back to ignoring him. After a minute or two of waiting for some sign that she hadn't actually forgotten about him, a slender, jittery witch with light blonde hair pushed through the double doors and walked over toward him.

"Yes? Is there something—" She stopped suddenly and stared at Harry with large blue eyes. "You're— You're Harry Potter," she stammered.

"Close your mouth, girl," the witch at the desk scolded her. "He's here to see Evelyn Sibley," she said without looking up.

For a moment the girl looked almost frightened. She tried to complain, but the other witch simply told her to take Harry where he needed to go. Obediently, the girl nodded and led Harry back through the doors and down a narrow corridor to a large locked door.

"Miss Sibley is in the Hall of Records," she explained. "She said she wasn't to be disturbed, but— Well, I don't expect she was talking about you."

The young woman unlocked the door and led Harry through it and down a long spiral staircase. At the end of the staircase was a short corridor which quickly opened into a long, domed hall filled with rows of cabinets. A brighter light was coming from somewhere near the center of the room, and that seemed to be exactly where the young witch was leading him.

"Excuse me, Miss Sibley?" she called out with a quivering voice.

"I told you I wanted privacy," snapped Evelyn. "Now get out before I call—"

"It's Harry Potter, Miss Sibley," the girl announced weakly. "He has an urgent message for you."

Evelyn froze for a moment. Her head rose slowly until her eyes met Harry's. "My apologies," she said. "You did the right thing. I expected Harry to come here. I should have told you. I'm sorry." The younger witch simply nodded silently. "Unfortunately, I must ask for privacy again," Evelyn said as she pushed a stack of folders aside. "Harry and I need to speak. He'll find his own way out. Thank you."

The blonde witch just nodded and mumbled something Harry couldn't quite hear. Then, just as quickly as she had appeared, she turned away and strode back toward the stairway, leaving Harry and Evelyn alone. There was a moment of awkward silence until the sound of a closing door echoed down the hall from the stairway.

"Have a seat, Harry," she offered as she took the scroll from him. "I assume this is just some scrap that Ferdinand had on hand?" Harry shrugged and agreed. "Typical," she commented as she tapped it with her wand. Green flames ran along the length of the parchment, turning slowly purple before completely consuming the scroll. "He never takes the time to properly plan these things. I assume there was some other reason for your visit. Is there something you need help with?"

"Yes, actually," began Harry. "I've been trying to find Josef Kantos. Did you remember seeing him at all when you were in Romania?"

"No," she answered after a moment of thought.

"Did you notice anything odd? Anything at all?"

"Anything odd? No, I didn't see anything strange or unexplained," she answered with a confused expression. "I didn't see anything noteworthy at all."

Harry collapsed back into his seat. Perhaps it had been foolish of him to assume that she would have noticed anything. The Brotherhood had made hiding from foreign ministries into an art form. He couldn't keep the frown off his face.

"Perhaps you didn't understand me," Evelyn said as she tried to get his attention again. "There was _nothing_ strange going on. I couldn't spend ten minutes on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters without seeing something odd. But Romania... There was nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing at all. Every day, I saw the same wizards going about their business as if everything was completely normal. But it wasn't normal at all."

Harry listened as Evelyn continued explaining the different places she'd been and how it had been the same at all of them. Only one explanation seemed possible, but it simply didn't make sense. If the Brotherhood knew what Reynard had planned, why wouldn't they tell him? Was that what the messages had said? Is that what had spurred Reynard to action?"

"When I got Ferdinand's message, I knew something must be happening. The part I still don't understand is how the Romanians knew about it weeks before we did." She paused and looked down at her hands. "I wasted a few hours looking for answers until I realized I'd been looking in the wrong place. There's nothing happening in Romania. There's nothing to find. Right now the Ministry is where everything interesting is happening."

"Then why did you come here?" Harry asked.

"Because Auguste Reynard came here," she answered with a clever smile. "Before he called the Unspeakables or sent the Aurors to Hogwarts, he came here with a bunch of his helpers, and in doing that, he's told us exactly where to look. I don't know where Josef is, but if you want to know why all of this is happening, I think the answers are sitting right in front of you, here." Slowly, she slid a folder across the desk toward Harry.

It was unlabeled, but there seemed to be quite a few pages inside. He opened it slowly and found a very official looking document sitting on the top of the stack. There was quite a bit of small script filling the page and from the little bit he read, it seemed to be talking about someone's death. He skipped to the bottom where he found the shape of a large seal. However, instead of being an actual seal, it was just an exceptionally good drawing of one. Instead of spending too much time unraveling that mystery, his eyes focused on the lines written next to it:

_Cirillo Presagio_ - _Death Day: November 21_

"Where did you get this?" Harry asked. "I thought Reynard took all of these records."

"He did," Evelyn replied as she began laying a number of photographs out on the desk. "Well, he took all records he knew about. After what happened to Marius Lipton, I took it upon myself to make copies. Of course, Ginny should have done it herself, but... she's not really the brightest, you know?"

Harry ignored the comment and began examining the photos. The first was nothing new to him. It showed the Italian Keeper laying motionless on the pitch, just as he had been when the Aurors found Harry.

"It's disturbingly familiar, isn't it?" Evelyn asked as she looked down at the photo. Harry had only heard about the scar on Cirillo Presagio's hand. He'd never seen it. Now that he finally had, he had to admit that Evelyn had a point. It was much longer, but it had the same rough, jagged shape as the scar on his forehead.

"Of course, that's only the most recent one," she commented as she reached for another folder. Harry watched as new photos were tossed out onto the desk. One showed Mira's hands, with deep violet fingernails and streaks of dark grey stretching toward them from her wrist. The other was a shot of her face. Her sickly pallor was contrasted by her bright red hair and the grotesque scar on her forehead.

"I suppose they didn't see any point in taking those. The poor girl still wears the scar. However, they did take everything about Marius Lipton. Or almost everything," she corrected herself. "I managed to find this," she said as she pulled out a crumpled roll of parchment. "This was copied down by one of the Healers when Marius arrived."

Harry took the scroll and spread it out under the light. In it, the Healer described Marius's condition when he arrived. He had been unconscious and completely unresponsive. The Healer noted that Marius was still alive though he couldn't quite understand why. More importantly, he described a large wound or burn of some sort on Marius's chest.

"There are no photographs, but I'd say that sounds pretty similar to me," Evelyn commented as she slipped the other photos back into their folders. "Even Ginevra could figure out that they were attacked by the same person."

"Whoever did it wanted everyone to blame me," Harry explained, "and it worked."

"Then they are idiots," Evelyn replied flatly. "How could anyone believe that this—" she said, pausing to lay out a photo of dozens of dead wizards staring up at the sky over Cornwall, "—could have been done by the same wizard who had survived a tragedy like this." She pulled a second photo out of another folder and sat it next to the first. This one Harry had seen too many times. It showed the smoldering ruins of a nearly unrecognizable house. Only Harry _did_ recognize it. He had lived just over a year of his life there.

"I know it's not easy for you to look at either of those photos," she said in a strange tone. It sounded somewhat like sympathy. "I see both of them and I find myself seeing more similarities than words can describe. There is purpose and meaning in these acts."

"There is only evil," Harry replied, unable to take his eyes off the photo of his parents' house. "The purpose was death. There was no meaning."

"No, Harry," she disagreed. "There is something deeper. Neither of these were random acts. There was a plan, perhaps something even more subtle than any of us could ever know, and yet, I think I'm beginning understand."

He couldn't quite figure out what she was talking about. "What is there to understand?" he asked.

"If you look back at history, you can find specific moments in time which have shaped the world." She picked up the photo of the smoking house and stared at it. "Do you think anyone knew how important that night would be? Did your parents? I guess I always figured they must have. So much changed that night..." Her voice trailed off as she picked up the photo of the dead wizards and held it in her other hand.

"I told myself that if anything like that would happen in my lifetime that I would be able to feel it coming, but I don't feel anything at all." Her eyes were filled with confusion and a little fear. "I look at these photos and I see the world changing, but I don't know what to do. I feel like I should stop it, but I don't know how."

"I'm trying to stop it," Harry said, trying to sound reassuring, "but I don't know what it is. How am I supposed to fight something when I don't even know what I'm looking for?"

"Well, I don't know what you're looking for, but I'm pretty certain I know where you'll find it"

"Where?" Harry asked in surprise.

"Hogwarts, of course."

"But... Why?"

Evelyn frowned and pulled the photo of Mira out again. "Open your eyes, Harry," she practically scolded him. "Look at her. She's more than just the victim of another attack. Why did she live while the other two died?"

"Er— because she, er—" he struggled. "Because she's the youngest?" he suggested finally. "Or— because she's a girl?"

Evelyn rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Harry. Don't you see? Someone wants you to go to Hogwarts."

"But... Why was the last attack in Cornwall?"

"You tell me, Harry," she replied wearily. "Did you go back to Hogwarts after the attack?"

"Yes, but—"

"Why?"

Harry took a moment to think. He'd gone back talk to Valencia and he'd used Mira to find her. He felt all of the anger and frustration of the past few weeks simmering within him. All those people in Cornwall had been killed just to get him to go back to Hogwarts. All those families had been destroyed for no reason.

"How— How do you know all this?" he asked through clenched teeth. "How could I have missed it?"

"Have I told you just how terribly boring Romania has been for the last three weeks?" she replied. "I think I've read every report out of the Ministry for the last month or so... twice. Once I saw the files here, it just all fit together. I assumed you already knew about Hogwarts. I mean, that's why you sent Granger there, isn't it?"

"I never sent her there," Harry replied quietly. Suddenly he remembered the odd question Ginny had asked him two weeks ago. Hermione had wanted to know if Harry had visited Hogwarts. She had even asked McGonagall if she could live in the castle. She knew something. She knew that Harry would come back to Hogwarts. She had even known who was attacking everyone at Cornwall before anyone else had —before anyone else could have known.

Harry stood up from his seat and straightened his cloak. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I need to go. I need to go to Hogwarts and find Hermione. Thank you for you time."

"Oh, it's nothing," Evelyn replied with half of a smile. "This has been positively thrilling compared to the alleys of Romania. However, if you really want to talk to Granger, you might ask the Healers. I thought I heard them say that she's here."

"She's _here_?"

"I think so," she answered. "Up on the Fourth Floor, I believe." Before Harry could really take much time thinking about this news, Evelyn pulled out a piece of parchment and began scribbling a quick note on it.

"Here," she said, offering the note to him. "Deliver that to Harrington when you get a chance. There's nothing for me to do here, so I'll be heading back to Romania. If I notice anything, I'll let you know immediately."

Harry took the note and stuffed it into his pocket. He nodded politely and wished her luck. He'd forgotten about the note before he even made it to the stairs. The only thing on his mind was Hermione and what business she might have in the Spell Damage Ward.

* * *

When Ginny arrived at St. Mungo's, the receptionist's temperament had not changed dramatically. She stared at Ginny with just as much annoyance as Harry had received. 

"Visiting hours are _clearly_ over, Miss," she snapped as she lowered her _Daily Prophet_ yet again.

"I'm not here to visit a patient, I'm meeting someone," Ginny announced.

This didn't seem to please the receptionist at all. "This is neither a pub nor an inn. This is a hospital. If you wish to _meet someone_, I suggest you try one of the former."

Ginny decided to try something different. "I work in the Department of International Magical—"

"Not another one," groaned the witch. "I've had enough of you lot for the night, I don't care if you're Minister Scrimgeour himself. You can come back tomorrow morning and complain to the head of the hospital. I'll be long gone and you can do whatever you like."

"Look," Ginny began in a gentler tone, "I just need to find—"

"Ahh, Good evening, Ginevra," a familiar voice called out as the door opened. Ginny felt her stomach tighten. She already knew who it was, but she turned to look at her anyway.

"How nice to see you here, Evie," she replied, knowing the response it would get.

Evelyn responded just as expected. With a scowl she strode toward Ginny, looking as if she was going to actually hit her. "Why are you here? There's no reason for you to be here."

"I'm here for Harry."

Evelyn's eyes narrowed. "Yes, of course. _Harry_," she replied acidly. "_Your savior. _Where would you be without him? Dead? And if not that, then poor, alone, and without any of the fame and influence you've worked so little to receive." The witch at the desk put down her _Prophet_ and watched intently.

Ginny tried restraining herself, but her anger got the best of her. "You're a jealous, hate-filled woman," she said. "You've lived a wretched life, and the only way you can feel better about yourself is to make everyone around you feel even more wretched."

"You don't know anything about my life," Evelyn snapped. "I see the world for what it is. It _is_ wretched. It's not my fault for refusing to hide that from you. The world is unfair and treacherous and hateful and filled with people who steal whatever they can and betray anyone who is more successful than they are."

"I pity you," Ginny said. To some degree it was the truth, yet to a much larger degree, she had said it only because she knew that Evelyn would be enraged at the thought.

"You pity me?" she spat. "How _noble_ of you. You hide your hatred with pity, just like you hide your contempt with obedience and your ambition with false love."

"What do you know of love?" Ginny shot back.

"I know that it is not something to be wielded like a sword or dangled on a string to get what you want. I don't think you've ever loved anyone. You just use them."

"I do love Harry!" Ginny shouted. "You could never understand—"

"And do you believe he loves you?"

"I know he does."

"Then why is he with Hermione Granger and not down here with you?" asked Evelyn. "What business could he possibly have with her at this hour? Did he tell you she was here? What excuse did he give you for coming here? What else hasn't he told you?"

"I trust him," Ginny replied stiffly.

"Yes, I can see now how your ignorance can be quite comforting," Evelyn sneered. "You were apart for a year. Can you honestly say that you shunned all romantic contact with wizards for that year? Do you truly believe that he never sought out any witches? Do you think he has even stopped? You do not inspire faithfulness, Ginevra."

Ginny was shaking with rage. She wanted to say something, to lash out, and yet she knew it would only feed Evelyn's hatred.

Evelyn scowled at her silence and walked over to the witch behind the desk. "Mr. Potter requested some privacy. I am certain that whenever he and Miss Granger are... finished, they will come down for Miss Weasley." The witch nodded with an oddly amused smile. With that, Evelyn turned and began walking quickly toward the exit.

Seeing her leaving broke the last of Ginny's will. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?" she snapped.

Evelyn's response was sharp and laced with venom. "Romania, though that's no business of yours. I'm off to look for your other boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend," Ginny growled.

"I suppose not," came her scoffing reply. "Perhaps if you had been a little more... friendly to him, Harry wouldn't need to send me off to find him. He'd only have to look as far as your bedroom."

"Why you little—"

"No time to talk now, Ginevra," Evelyn interrupted. "I've got important things to do. You wait here. And don't be frightened. I'm sure Harry will be along shortly to tell you what to do."

Ginny's hand clenched her wand, but she gritted her teeth and forced herself to stay calm as Evelyn walked away.

* * *

Four floors up, Harry was wandering the hallways and searching for some sign of Hermione. A pleasant witch near the stairs had said she'd seen Hermione somewhere along the corridor he was walking, but she had promptly disappeared. 

Of all the wards he might be searching through at midnight, the Spell Damage Ward was the worst to pick. He'd quickly given up on any attempts to find Hermione by listening to voices. There were plenty of voices there, but few of them were peaceful or happy. The war with Voldemort had done quite a bit to fill the ward with witches and wizards suffering from spell effects that Healers still had not finished studying.

So, instead of relying on his ears, he trusted his eyes to find her. The ward was rather dark, lit only by evenly spaced torches along the corridor. If Hermione was speaking with one of the Healers or visiting one of the patients, there would almost certainly be more light. As he walked down the corridor, he checked every doorway for cracks of light.

He came to the end of the corridor and was forced to choose between two paths. The corridor stretching off to the right was even darker than the one he'd just been in. The left, however, supplied some hope. Some distance away, he spotted a line of golden light flickering off the walls of the ceiling. It had to be coming from the doorway of one of the offices.

He walked toward it quickly and quietly. He suddenly felt paranoid and nervous. What purpose did she have for being here? He remembered the discussion she'd had with Professor McGonagall and didn't really want to stumble into the middle of that conversation. The last thing he needed was someone from St. Mungo's hearing Hermione suggest that he had somehow caused the attacks at Cornwall.

He came to a sudden stop not far from the doorway when he heard footsteps from within the office. "Ah, so this is Miss Granger," a wizard said in a hoarse voice. "It is nice to meet you. I have heard of your work. Finding those cursed goblets last spring saved the lives of five wizards. A late night visit is the least I can do to repay you. Now, where is this patient you spoke of, Portia? I assume it is a Hogwarts student?"

There was a moment of silence, then Harry heard Hermione's voice, almost too faint to hear through the gap in the door: "No, sir. _I_ am the patient." Harry felt a chill run down his spine and he stepped closer to the door. What had happened to Hermione? Had she been injured in an attack?

"Hmm, I see," the wizard replied. "You look well enough. I have heard excellent things about Madam Pomfrey. Did she send you here?"

"No," Hermione said again. "I— I wanted to keep this confidential. I... I'm— I'm frightened. I don't know what would happen if—" Harry could hear the stress in her voice. Something bad had happened. "I need you to be professional about this," she said in a steadier voice. "You can't tell anyone."

"Of course not," the wizard replied. "We are always discrete about employees of the Department of Mysteries. I promise you I will not reveal any information about this visit, on one condition: You must be honest with me." There was a pause, and after a few seconds, the wizard continued: "Alright then, I must ask: The purpose behind this visit, is it because you think you might be—"

"No, sir," answered a woman's voice. "I've already checked. There's no sign of any child."

Harry felt a sudden pang of guilt. He was eavesdropping on an obviously confidential discussion. Why did he feel the need to spy on Hermione? He shouldn't be there. If he wanted to talk with her, he should wait at the end of the corridor like a good friend. Or, at the very least, knock on the door and announce his presence.

"When Miss Granger came in, I took a moment to examine her," the woman continued. "I looked in all of the most common books, but I can't seem to find anything that fits. That's why I called you. It's on her arm, here. Roll up your sleeve, please, Miss Granger."

"Ahh, indeed it is," the wizard said heavily. "Yes, that is a nasty looking thing, isn't it? Almost certainly spell damage. You came to the right place, Miss Granger. I'm confident we can fix you up quickly." Harry inched closer to the door, trying to see what had happened to her, but he couldn't find the right angle.

"Do you recognize it?" the woman eventually asked.

"Possibly," the man replied. "I can't be absolutely certain, but it's not uncommon for this sort of thing to happen to powerful witches and wizards, especially those who experiment or research magic like Miss Granger. Whenever something stressful like this business in Cornwall happens, they end up spending long hours casting strange, powerful spells. Some wands just can't take years of use like that, and they begin to... react with the caster's wand arm. I had a case a few months back where—"

"Excuse me, sir," the witch interrupted. "That's not her wand arm, sir. She holds her wand in her right arm."

"Oh, really?" the man said. His voice seemed slightly tenser. "And you haven't been hit with any curses or had anything else obvious happen? No bites or run-ins with magical artifacts?"

"Well, no," answered Hermione.

"Did anything at all strange occur about the time you noticed it?"

"Well... I— No, it just sort of—"

"Miss Granger, I need you to be honest with me," he scolded her.

"I... I don't really know what happened," she said. "I had been going about my day, and then... I just sort of woke up and I couldn't remember what I had been doing."

"Was anyone else around when this happened?"

"Yes," she said faintly. "Harry Potter."

"It's always him, isn't it?" the wizard remarked. "We will need to speak with Mr. Potter. He might have some insight into the real cause. Until then, keep an eye on it. I have some potions—"

"He's right outside the door," Hermione announced, "if you'd like to speak with him."

Harry was too surprised to move as two pairs of footsteps rapidly approached the door. With a burst of candlelight, the door was pulled open to reveal a very confused witch and wizard. The witch was slender, with long mahogany hair and a young face. The wizard was much older, with a long wispy beard and a short, pointed hat.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter," the old wizard greeted him slowly. "I did not know that you were here."

"I— I had just arrived," Harry lied. "I had other business here and heard that Hermione was here as well. I was just coming to see that everything is alright."

"I cannot say if it is," the wizard replied coolly. "Your friend has a most curious injury. I wonder if you might know something about it." The wizard led Harry into the room and stepped aside, letting Harry get his first clear view of Hermione.

She was sitting in a cushioned chair next to a large, heavy desk. She looked a little paler than she had the last time he'd seen her, but the candlelight made everyone look pale. Hermione was sitting with her right side to him and he could see little more than her face and the expression of trepidation on it. Her right arm was resting comfortably on the chair, but her left arm looked to be held stiff off to her side. Harry circled around her to get a better look.

As he passed in front of her, his eyes spotted a change in her face. She was afraid. A second later, he understood why. His throat tightened as he stared down at her left arm. He struggled to take a breath as his heart pounded against his ribs.

The skin along the inside of her elbow was a dark grey streaked with deep purple. The streaks of grey and violet stretched down her arm, fading out as they reached her fingers. Her fingernails, however, were already turning the same sickly purple as Mira's had. The same streaks ran up her arm as well, lightening as they neared her shoulder and passed under the rolled fabric of her sleeve.

He stared at her arm in horror. It was exactly where Marius had grabbed her. What had happened? It had gone away. He'd seen it. They all had. Why had it come back?

"Miss Granger said that you might have some idea what happened to her," the old wizard said as he walked up next to Harry. "Do you remember anything strange happening, er— When did you first notice this?"

"Er... Almost two months, I suppose," Hermione replied weakly. "Almost two months, exactly."

"_Two months!_" the wizard cried out. "Why didn't you come in sooner, daft girl? You didn't tell anyone about this? Why... this could be serious, Miss Granger."

The old Healer continued to scold Hermione for her procrastination, but her eyes remained locked on Harry's. It wasn't hard to work out what he'd been doing two months ago. She had been talking about the day of the ceremony at Diagon Alley. Could that be right? Had it been there all that time, only to be noticed on that day? Could it be a coincidence?

Things started to fit together in Harry's mind. He'd assumed that Hermione's sudden preference for jumpers was some manifestation of guilt. It hadn't been in her head, though. She was wearing them to keep this injury a secret. She must have been hoping it would go away. Their fight in the tower at the first Quidditch match suddenly made sense. She had painted her nails to hide their discoloration. A fresh wave of fear hit him. That had been over a month ago. How had she hidden it for so long. He looked back down at her hands and got his answer. On her right hand, she was still wearing an elegant glove of some lustrous, black material. No doubt there was another for her left hand.

"Has it changed at all in the last two months?" the wizard asked as he walked over to a large shelf of books and began pulling out large dusty tomes.

"Er, yes," she whispered. "At first it was just a small spot, like a bruise. None of the normal spells worked on it, but simple cosmetic charms worked."

"Of course they did," the man grumbled. "Any fool can cure fireblisters by wrapping themselves in great bloody bandages."

"Does it hurt?" the younger Healer asked as she knelt down next to Hermione.

"It doesn't really feel like anything. I can still feel it, but... it never hurts and it never feels hot or cold."

"Well, there are a number of effects which look similar to this, but all of them have very acute symptoms. I doubt you would be willing to endure the pain for two months," the wizard said as he shut another large book. "So, beyond looking like you've nearly burnt your own arm off, what has caused this sudden concern after two months of complete disregard for a very serious condition?"

"I just wanted to see if you could give me something to stop it from spreading any further. It's getting harder to keep it hidden, and I rather not let anyone else know."

The old Healer didn't even look up from his book. "Yes, I imagine that might start to become a problem. Well, we can't very well do anything about that until we find out just what caused it. So, unless either of you has some insight into what sort of damage we're looking at, there won't be much I can do other than suggest that you remain here tonight so that we can have some more time to figure out just what you might be dealing with."

"I'd rather not," Hermione responded immediately. "I don't have time to stay here even a single day. I have quite a bit of work to do. Perhaps I could come back some other time?"

"Oh dear. Why had I not thought of that earlier? What sort of work have you been doing lately?" the older Healer asked as he looked up from his book.

"Nothing interesting," Hermione answered stiffly.

"Portia said you came from Hogwarts," he said as he walked across the room. "Have you been spending time around those students?"

"Of course," the woman cried out. "Do you think that's what this could be? But I thought they said it wasn't contagious."

"It's the only thing that makes sense," he said as he approached Hermione. She recoiled and pulled her arm tight against her chest. "This could be very serious, Miss Granger. Have you been in contact with either of those students? This could be something similar, you need to—"

"_No,_" she said strongly. "_This has nothing to do with them._" She continued staring at the two Healers, taking fast, deep breaths. The young woman was just staring back with a vacant look in her eyes. The older wizard looked merely disoriented.

"Are you... I— Can you be certain?" he asked slowly. "I don't mean to disagree, it's just..."

"Thank you for your help," Hermione said as she stood up quickly. "I'm afraid we have to go. Now."

"You really should, er... stay," the wizard tried to tell her. "We still might find a way... to, er... stop it or—"

"_You won't tell anyone about this,_" Hermione said as she gathered her things from the nearby desk. "You gave me your word."

The wizard blinked at her. "Yes... yes, of course."

Without another word, Hermione turned and grabbed Harry's arm, pulling him with her toward the door. Once they were out of the room, Hermione began running back to the main corridor. As she reached it, she stumbled around the corner and collapsed onto the floor gasping for breath.

"What's wrong?" he asked as he caught up to her.

"It hurts," she whispered.

"Your arm?"

Hermione shook her head weakly. "No... It just... hurts." She took a series of deep breaths and stared up into his eyes.

"Did you do this?" she asked. Her voice was hard and forceful. When Harry didn't answer quickly enough, her eyes narrowed her arm shot out to crush his wrist in her grip. "_Did you do this to me!_" she shouted.

"No!" Harry shouted back. "I had no idea. I— How could I know?"

Hermione's head fell back against the wall and her eyes began rolling back into her head. Harry grabbed her shoulders and tried to shake her back to consciousness. After a while her breathing returned to normal and she seemed to relax a little more.

"You're not going to tell them," she tried to order him. Harry felt a little light-headed for a moment but it passed quickly.

"You can't hide this forever, Hermione."

"I can't tell them," she gasped. "Not yet... I need to find some way of fighting it or even just understanding it. I can't— I don't want to be helpless. I don't want... " Tears welled up in her eyes as she stared at the floor. "I don't want to become like Mira. I— I'd rather—"

"Enough," Harry interrupted her. "She was much worse than you, and she's getting better. You'll get better, too. I promise. We're going to find out who did this, and we're going to stop them."

"How?" she asked hoarsely.

It was an excellent question. "I don't know how, but I know where to start," he told her. Gently, he picked her other glove up off the floor where she'd dropped it and offered it to her. "We need to go to Hogwarts. I think something is going to happen and we need to be there to stop it."

* * *

Ginny paced the lobby and checked the clock on the wall yet again. What was keeping Harry? Why didn't he just come down so the three of them could talk? Why couldn't he come down and give her something to think about other than her argument with Evelyn? She stopped pacing and leaned against the wall, trying to relax and focus on the important things at hand. 

She was interrupted by a soft _creak_, as the door opened and Harry and Hermione emerged silently. There was something off about the pair of them. Harry was looking even more serious than when they'd parted and Hermione looked strange as well. There was something about her that was missing. Her face was expressionless and she moved neither too fast nor too slow. Instead, she simply appeared _weak_, almost as though she was in dire need of sleep.

_We could all use a little more sleep,_ she told herself. Harry hadn't been sleeping well, either, but she knew better than to bring that subject up. He always told her that he didn't remember his dreams, and even if he did, she doubted they were the type that he'd truly want to remember.

"Did you learn anything useful?" Harry whispered as Ginny walked along side him.

"Nothing that really changes the situation," she replied quietly. "No one knows where Josef is, and the Brotherhood is upset that he seems to be more willing to help us than them."

"I'm sure they're doing fine without him," Harry commented.

As they walked, Ginny noticed Hermione favoring one of her arms. As she watched, she saw something else: Hermione was wearing close-fitting gloves of black satin. Her eyes were also red and slightly swollen. Had she been crying? Had she been on a date with Ron?

"Is everything alright?" she asked as they stepped out onto the streets of Muggle London. She got a sharp warning glance from Harry. "You know something," she said, choosing not to press her previous question. "What did Evelyn tell you? Where are we going?"

"We're going to go wait for the next attack," Harry replied. "We're going back to Hogwarts."

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Closing in on the home stretch. Now you all have an idea what's up with Hermione. The arrival at Hogwarts is the official start of the end of this story (and the bridge to the start of the next). It should start speeding up, so pay attention and I hope you enjoy it.

I've got Chapter 20 and 21 waiting for final edits, so you should be seeing two more chapters by Wednesday next week. Thanks for being patient. With luck, you might even have 22 before the end of next week.

There are some rather interesting things said in this chapter. Once we're all done, this is one that you might want to come back to re-read. Of course, if you have questions or guesses, feel free to email them to me. I try to answer quickly.


	20. The Second Message

_This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

**CHAPTER 20**

**The Second Message**

* * *

"What you do in your own house is your business, not mine, Potter," Professor McGonagall scolded him, "but this is not your house, this is _my_ school and while you are here you will do as I say." 

"This is really unnecessary," Harry complained.

"No, Potter, rules are not unnecessary. I am well aware of your habit for breaking them, but don't expect me to do it for you. I doubt you'll get any sympathy from Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley. They've had to follow the very same rule." Harry tried to argue, but Ginny shot him a nasty look. They continued walking along the corridor as McGonagall finished explaining what had been happening around Hogwarts.

According to her, there had been more odd occurrences than Harrington had implied. Over the last week, quite a few students had reported seeing a hooded figure inside the castle. At first she and Lupin had tried to downplay the sightings. They had assumed that it was simply Josef and that there must have been some reason for his clandestine behavior. When the Aurors reported that no one knew where Josef was, they assumed they must have been seeing Brotherhood members trying to find him.

"We haven't seen anything for more than a day," McGonagall explained. "More Aurors arrived earlier today and they didn't find anything at all. When I heard that you had arrived, I began to fear the worst. If you're right and your friend Josef has discovered something, I'm afraid it might have discovered him as well."

It wasn't the first time this thought had occurred to Harry. He wanted to try and talk to McGonagall about Valencia again, but he knew that neither she nor Ginny would listen to him. Not that night, at least. They were all tired and in greater need of sleep than answers. The Aurors were patrolling in double shifts and had an extra pair of Aurors from the Ministry to watch the castle. If anything happened, McGonagall promised they would be woken immediately.

"This will be your room, Harry," she announced as she stopped in front of one of the doors. "Ginny, you will be at the end of the corridor. I assume you remember the room?" Ginny nodded lazily and tried to stifle a yawn.

"Very well, here you are, Harry," the Headmistress announced as she opened the door to Harry's room. He let out a frustrated groan. The bed was small and the rest of the room was sized to fit it. There were a pair of wardrobes and a fireplace, but they only served to make the room look even more cramped and uncomfortable.

"How come my room is so much smaller than—"

"Than _what_, Potter?" McGonagall interrupted with an interrogating glare. "What other room are you comparing this to?"

"Er, I— My dormitory in Gryffindor Tower, I guess," he replied lamely. "But that had five students and this... This will be just fine, really." Ginny rolled her eyes and began walking down the corridor to her room.

"Watch yourself, Potter," McGonagall warned him. "We'll be meeting with the Aurors tomorrow morning. I'll send Remus to fetch the two of you. If he doesn't find you in this room, I'll move you to one of the spare closets in the dungeon."

* * *

"You're being paranoid, Harry," Lupin told him as he straightened his robes. "Both of the attacks happened at night. She was the first one to find them because she likes walking around the castle at night." 

"And that's not suspicious?" Harry replied. "She's in the library all day and walks around the castle at night. When does she sleep? She can't be walking around that whole time."

"I honestly don't know, Harry. As far as I can tell, she's spent all of her spare time trying to figure out what has been going on. I don't think you ever realized it, but Dumbledore rarely spent much time sleeping, either."

"She's not Dumbledore."

Lupin frowned. "I never said she was. I'm just trying to say that we've got no reason to distrust her. She's given us more help than you probably realize."

"That's what has been worrying me," said Harry. "Why is she so good at finding answers, yet failing to actually help us figure out who's doing this? Why does she know more about Mira's recovery than Madam Pomfrey? Why did she get so irritated when Josef started asking questions about her?"

"I don't know," admitted Lupin, "have you considered the fact that she might truly wish to help us because she is a good person? You know, you of all people should be more understanding about this. How many times have people accused you of being a dark wizard?"

"This is different," Harry shot back, though at the moment he couldn't actually think of any differences. "She's got some other reason for being here. She told me she's here to find something. She said Mira knows what it is."

"You probably misunderstood her," Lupin argued.

"She told me to stay out of her way," Harry replied. "What else is that supposed to mean?" Lupin turned to glare at him and Harry let out a deep breath and tried to relax. "Look," he said in a calmer voice, "I'm not saying we should lock her in the dungeons. I just don't think we should tell her everything we know. I'd feel a lot safer if she didn't know what I was up to every minute of the day."

"Well that shouldn't be a problem," Lupin announced as he opened the door to leave Harry's room. "She said she'll be spending the entire day in the library. She didn't seem to be getting along well with the new Aurors."

Harry followed him out into the corridor and they walked to the end of the corridor where Ginny was waiting for them. Together they made their way to the second floor where Professor McGonagall had gathered all of the Aurors, a number of professors, and a few other witches and wizards who had come because of the trouble brewing in the castle.

Ron and Hermione were already there, and Ron was quick to jump out of his seat to welcome Harry. Hermione remained in hers, though her eyes followed Harry all the way across the room.

"Good to see you, mate," Ron whispered as he guided them back to a pair of chairs Hermione summoned for them. "Of course, if you're here that usually means something bad is brewing. Hermione told me you got in late last night. Did something happen?"

Harry began explaining how Harrington had called him and Ginny to the Ministry, but he was quickly interrupted by the Headmistress as she closed the door and began addressing everyone. For the most part, she wasn't saying anything she hadn't told him the night before, so he took some time to look around the room. It seemed that all of the Aurors were there except two. Tonks and Simon Weller were both absent. He assumed they were the only ones watching the grounds at the time.

"Excuse me," a wizard called out from the back of the room. "Where is Valencia? Wasn't she the one who has been cataloging all of these sightings? Certainly we should hear if she has learned anything from them."

McGonagall frowned. "Madam Desmoda is working on that at this very moment. She promised us that she would tell us the instant she found anything interesting. Until then, she wants privacy."

"And what about us?" the wizard continued. "How will she know if we discover something? Someone should probably stop by and keep her updated. If something does happen, we wouldn't want to waste time explaining anything which she might have—"

"Don't worry about it, Justinian. Professor Lupin has already agreed to check in on her."

Harry craned his neck and found Justinian Lynch looking slightly disappointed. He slumped back into his chair and remained quiet as McGonagall continued. The rest of the meeting was rather uninteresting; Harry didn't really learn anything new. The Aurors and professors were all given a variety of duties and a number of plans were organized to handle whatever situation might arise. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were conspicuously left out of these plans. Harry assumed that it was probably due to McGonagall's belief that they couldn't be counted on to perform just their part. Being honest with himself, Harry agreed. If anything did happen, he didn't want to be left locking the main doors while a dark wizard was stalking the dungeons.

The rest of the day dragged on with a sort of mind-dulling frustration that made Harry almost wish there was a dark wizard in the dungeons. He could feel the tension in the corridors as the students walked about. They weren't speaking nearly as much as they normally did. Though the professors had made no announcements, the students knew something was happening. Harry could see it in their faces and as he sat down for lunch, he overheard more than one conversation about just which protective charms to use in an emergency.

After lunch, he paced about the castle for an hour or more with Ginny at his side. They hadn't seen Ron or Hermione since that morning and Harry decided it was probably for the best. He couldn't get the image of the dark patch on Hermione's arm out of his mind. It seemed the harder he tried to forget about it, the more it weighed on his mind. The guilt of not telling Ginny wasn't helping either.

There was only so much he could take, and Ginny didn't seem to be much different. When he suggested that they go outside, she immediately agreed. The castle had started closing in on him and he hoped that some fresh air would drive away his growing paranoia. It certainly didn't hurt, and instead of returning to the castle as they had first planned, they decided to remain outside, finding an ever growing sequence of odd jobs to do that kept them from returning to the uncomfortable gloom of Hogwarts castle.

As the evening meal approached, Tonks came to find Harry and Ginny as they were trying to enjoy a sunset walk around the grounds. Harry had immediately feared the worst, but Tonks was quick to say that nothing had actually happened, and that McGonagall had asked if they would join the professors for dinner. She thought that the students might feel a little more confident seeing Harry around. Considering the last few months, Harry thought it really should have made them even more afraid, but he didn't really want to have to explain himself to the Headmistress.

As they entered the castle, Harry could still feel the uneasy tension he'd left the castle to escape. There were a number of students making their way to the Great Hall, but they were far quieter than usual, and they stared at Harry as though they hadn't made up their minds whether he was protecting them or putting them in more danger.

He began feeling even less welcome when he reached the doors to the Great Hall. Walking up at the very same moment was Valencia Desmoda. In her wake was Justinian Lynch. Both of them looked annoyed to see him.

"Potter..." Valencia grumbled as she came to a halt just outside the doorway. "I was told you weren't going to be here." She looked into the Great Hall, then toward Justinian who had stopped beside her, and finally back at Harry. Her eyes narrowed. "I'm busy, Potter," she warned him. "I'm in no mood for any... interruptions."

Without waiting for any response, she strode through the doors, leaving Justinian behind. He hesitated for a moment, then tossed Harry a warning glance and turned to follow Valencia.

"You were right," Ginny whispered as they walked into the Great Hall. "She's hiding something."

"I tried to tell Lupin," Harry replied. "He didn't believe me."

"Of course he didn't," Ginny said under her breath. "He's been spending quite a bit of time around her. You might have gotten a better response from Tonks." She paused and looked up toward the head table. "Actually, it's probably better that you didn't tell her."

Harry turned to see what Ginny was looking at. They were only halfway to the head table, but it was easy enough to see what was happening. Tonks and Lupin were standing off to one side of the head table talking to Ron and Hermione. Valencia called out to Lupin and he smiled at her. Tonks didn't react as kindly. Her face fell into a scowl.

"Oh, I've got a bad feeling about this," Ginny commented as she picked up her pace. Harry followed as close as he could. Ahead of him, Valencia was walking toward the chairs behind the head table.

"Remus," she called out in silky tones, "why don't you join me? There's something I wanted to share with you." Lupin started walking toward her, but Tonks stepped in front of him. She didn't say a thing. She simply stood and stared at him. After a brief pause, Lupin frowned and stepped around her.

Harry and Ginny arrived in time to see Hermione and Tonks exchanging disgusted looks. Tonks quickly followed Lupin, and the others followed her.

Harry quickly understood what Ginny had been talking about. Only moments after Lupin sat down next to Valencia, Justinian took the seat next to her. Once Tonks sat down on the other side of Lupin, the very air around the head table felt heavy with tension. Valencia didn't say anything to Lupin. Instead, she glared Justinian, who seemed completely oblivious to her disgust.

Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione were all sitting at the end of the table, but Harry was still close enough to see and hear everything that was happening. It was clear enough to see that Valencia fancied Lupin. That more than explained why Tonks hated her so much and why Valencia disliked the Aurors. What Harry hadn't noticed was how Justinian seemed to take every opportunity to catch Valencia's attention. When the rest of the professors arrived, Justinian barely noticed. He also failed to notice Valencia's growing annoyance at his continued attempts to get her to talk with him.

"Lynch!" an Auror shouted, finally wrenching Justinian's attention from Valencia. "Nice of you to return," he continued as he walked up to the head table. "We needed you more a couple days ago. Why did you run off at a time like this?"

Justinian's brow furrowed as he peered back at the man. "Why thank you, Mr. Aberly, it's fine to be back, but I'm afraid I don't quite understand. Why is this time worse than any other?"

Aberly gave him a look as though he was expecting Justinian to admit it had only been a joke. When he didn't, the Auror leaned over the table and began speaking in a quiet voice. "We were running double shifts until the other lot of Aurors showed up. We could have used the extra help. Those Acromantulas are still showing up."

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry," Justinian replied with sincerity. "I didn't think it would be a problem. I was just visiting some friends and looking for something special for the fifth years."

"Open your eyes, man," hissed Aberly "There are more important things to think about than spending time with old school mates. Weren't you paying any attention at that meeting earlier?"

"Yes, I believe I was. However, I fail to see how my presence here could have caused or prevented anything. I am sorry I could not help you, but I am no Auror. The Headmistress brought me here to teach these students. I'm afraid that duty must come before my desire to help you."

Aberly let out a frustrated sigh and stepped back. The noise in the hall began to grow as more and more students began walking through the main doors. "Very well," the Auror replied. "Perhaps you could give us a little warning the next time you plan on leaving."

"Of course," Justinian answered with a smile. Aberly nodded and began weaving his way between students on his way back out of the hall. Professor McGonagall entered moments later, and with a clap of her hands platters of food appeared on all the tables.

"What exactly did you have planned for the fifth years, Justinian?" Lupin asked as he reached for a large plate of beef roast. "I hope it isn't anything too challenging. It's been a rather rough year, already. I don't think anyone is in need of more stress, least of all the fifth years."

"Oh, no, it's nothing like that," Justinian replied with a broad smile. "I've been pushing the fifth years pretty hard. It would be nice if Care of Magical Creatures could finally gain some respect from the Ministry, and some good O.W.L.'s could do a lot to help. Some of them have been complaining, but I told them that they had it easy compared to what Harry had to go through his fifth year."

From the corner of his eye, Harry found Justinian smiling at him. The idea that he had become some sort of standard for just how bad a year could go wasn't really something that made Harry feel any better. He tossed a quick glare at Justinian before reaching for the last turkey leg.

"Hmm. That's pretty much how they responded as well," mused the young professor. "Anyway, they've been doing really well, and I think they'll do superbly on their exams. So, I've been trying to plan something a little more encouraging than visiting manticores or calming trolls. I still don't know if it's possible, but I'll see what we can do. I'll need Ministry approval, but that shouldn't be difficult. It's the merpeople who might be a little tricky."

"Merpeople?" Ron commented from the end of the table. "Why would they care about what you're doing? You're not going to try to put a kelpie in the lake, are you?"

"Oh, no," Justinian laughed. "They're far too unpredictable. I was thinking of something a little more even tempered. Like a giant squid."

Valencia rolled her eyes. "Perhaps if you had been paying more attention to your duties and less to the private business of others, you'd have noticed that there already is a giant squid in the lake." Her voice was flat but subtly cutting.

"Trust me, I noticed," he replied cheerily. "She's a fine looking female. Very healthy. Very friendly. I spoke to one of my mates in South Africa He told me they've found a small colony of them off Cape Horn. He said it wouldn't take much to toss one on a ship and bring it up." He paused to see everyone's reaction. "We agreed it was a crime to leave such a wonderful creature to live a solitary life."

"And is it not just as great a crime to force it to share its lake with another which it has not chosen?" Valencia shot back at him. "I find it offensive to even suggest it."

Justinian looked surprised and a little confused. "What would you have me do, then? Collect photos? Perhaps we might interview other interested squid? Or perhaps we could put up flyers at popular squid pubs?"

"Why not let the squid choose its own mate? Who are you to decide for it? You know nothing about it. You've been here for three months. You don't know anything about its life. You don't know what it wants. You presume that you know how to make it happy. It's insulting."

"I assure you there is no insult, Valencia," he replied defensively. "I have done this many times. It can be hard at first, especially for creatures who've lived most of their lives alone. However, it almost always turns out splendidly. A squid is very intelligent. It wants companionship as much as any human, and like humans, they often want it more than they realize."

"Is that what you call it? Companionship?" she snapped. "You'll pick out some creature based on the fact that it's healthy, currently unattached, and of an apparently similar age. Then you'll dump it in the lake with an otherwise happy animal while you run off to celebrate. You call it companionship. I call it condemnation."

"It's not condemnation," Justinian argued. "These things take time. They'll learn to care for each other."

Valencia was livid. "They'll learn— How could—" She pushed her plate away from her so she could face Justinian. "You think that she'll love him if she's forced to spend enough time with him? You think she'll give in because there's no other choice?"

"No, of course not," he replied defensively. "That's not how it works—"

"That's precisely how it works. I find it disgusting and barbaric."

Harry could see the horror on Justinian's face as he tried to calm her down. "I swear to you that it's not," he told her. "We only try to make them happy—"

"True happiness can only come from being given the choice to be happy," she snapped. She pushed her chair back from the table. "I'm afraid I've lost my appetite." She stood up and quietly apologized to Professor McGonagall. As she walked around the table, she stopped in front of Lupin. "I need to speak with you, Remus. It's urgent." Harry caught her eyes stopping on him for the briefest moment before she turned and walked toward the main doors.

Quite a few of the students stopped their conversations to watch her leave. Professor McGonagall and the rest of the professors and Aurors who had been at the other side of the head table looked rather confused. Even Harry, who had been sitting only a few feet away couldn't completely understand what had happened. Whatever it was, it seemed that they had been talking about more than just the squid, and Justinian's reaction seemed to prove it.

While the rest of the hall slowly returned to their food, Justinian simply stared at the contents of his cup with a blank expression on his face. Tonks, who was suddenly in a much better mood, leaned around Lupin to ask if there was something wrong.

"I... no," he replied shakily. "No, everything is... it's fine. I just thought— I suppose it never really mattered..."

"If it makes you feel any better, I thought it was a brilliant idea," Tonks commented.

"Yeah, thanks," he mumbled. Harry watched as he swirled the liquid in his glass for a moment, then carefully put it down and pushed his chair away from the table as well.

"Are you certain you're alright?" Lupin asked.

"Yes, yes I'm fine," he replied. "She just reminded me of... There's some business I've been needing to do for some time. I guess it's pointless to put it off much longer. I should go. I— I'll have the elves send some food to my cabin. If anything happens, you should be able to find me there." Without looking at anyone else in the room, he stood up and walked out of the Great Hall.

* * *

The next day was scarcely more interesting than the previous one. A cold wind had blown in overnight robbing Harry of the ability to retreat to the grounds when the castle started becoming too frustrating for him. The only breaks in the dark monotony were things he really didn't want to do anything about. 

Sometime before lunch, Mira discovered that Harry was in the castle and had sent a message through Madam Pomfrey asking him to come talk to her. Harry considered it for a while, but eventually decided not to go. If Evelyn was right, then someone wanted him to go see her and Harry didn't want to do that until he had a better idea of just who was causing all of it. He let Ron and Hermione go instead. Ron's disgruntled greeting at lunch told him everything he needed to know. Mira didn't have anything important to say.

Later that day Valencia finally emerged from the library to prowl about the castle with the Aurors. Harry spotted her only twice that afternoon, but she didn't seem at all pleased to see him and her only words were laced with an icy warning. He opted out of dinner that night, choosing instead to fetch some food directly from the elves in the kitchen. He returned to his room and after spending some time relaxing with Ginny, he fell asleep.

He awoke the next morning with memories of bad dreams still vivid in his mind. Like he had the day before, he skipped breakfast. He had begun to question the purpose of being at Hogwarts. If his fears were correct and Reynard were responsible for the attacks, then coming to Hogwarts might have been nothing more than a trick to get him away from the Ministry. Of course, it might have also been a plan to drive him out of his mind with anxiety and frustration.

The mood around the castle wasn't much better. The students were feeling the stress even more than Harry was. It had gotten so bad that most of the professors had decided not to assign any work, despite the fact that the week had just begun. Despite their attempts to calm them down, by the afternoon there were a number of reports of minor scuffles between students. It was inevitable that such things would occur. It was obvious that the professors and Aurors were worried about attacks, but the fact that nothing was happening was no comfort to the students.

It got bad enough that the last classes of the day were canceled outright. One student claimed they couldn't hand in their Potions work because they did not remember where they had put it. She claimed that she had been working on it just that day and must have been memory charmed.

Madam Pomfrey examined her and, before the next classes even began, the professors were already announcing that the girl had not been memory charmed and that there was no need to be alarmed. Of course, it was far too late for that. Rumors of the vicious attack were already spreading. Panicked students were walking in packs from classroom to classroom, waiting for someone or something to attack them, though they didn't even have the foggiest idea of what it might be.

McGonagall hoped that by canceling classes, the students might relax. Instead it only confirmed their fears. They all ate an abnormally quiet meal. From his seat between Ginny and Ron, he tried to talk to McGonagall and convince her that she needed to announce that there was no danger. The suggestion only seemed to annoy her and she refused to speak about it. When Harry asked Lupin, he brushed him aside as well, saying that if Harry wanted to talk about it he should stop by his office later that night.

Whether the offer was sincere or not, Harry decided that he really should go talk to Lupin. He wondered if the students would calm down faster if he and Ginny and the other Aurors left. Ginny had been talking with Hermione, and hadn't minded at all that Harry had walked off.

When Harry opened the door to Lupin's office he realized suddenly that Lupin was not alone. Professor McGonagall was there as well and she seemed to be having some sort of argument with Lupin.

"I don't know what you expect me to do," McGonagall told him. "Close down the school? Call in more Aurors?"

"We might want to consider what it would take to do both," Lupin replied calmly.

McGonagall was anything but calm. "The girl was stunned, Remus. Students have been stunning each other since long before you, James and Sirius were here."

"Speaking of them..." Remus said with a nod toward Harry. The Headmistress turned to frown disapprovingly at Harry.

"Is there something you need, Potter?" McGonagall asked in a very unwelcoming tone. Harry quickly told her that he'd come because Lupin had told him to stop by and discuss the purpose of him and Ginny remaining at Hogwarts.

Lupin spoke up, "Before you go making any decisions, you should know that a student was stunned shortly after dinner tonight. Madam Pomfrey took care of her but it was a powerful spell and she's still feeling a bit dizzy."

"There have been a number of jinxes and charms cast in this school lately," McGonagall added. "Remus knows very well that there have been times when it was much worse without any dark wizards about. Why Robert Olson broke his arm this morning when one of his friends tried out what was supposed to be a protective charm. You didn't think anything needed to be done about that. You didn't have any complaints about all the other accidents and disagreements that plagued these last few days."

"Perhaps, but none of them actually required Poppy's attention. I think these are different. There's something I just found out that changes things slightly," Lupin announced. "I didn't even think it until Madam Pomfrey asked about telling the girl's parent. She's a Muggle-born, Minerva. So was the other girl this afternoon."

"We have quite a few Muggle-borns attending Hogwarts, Remus,"

"Yes, and in the last few hours, one has been stunned and the other has been hit with a memory charm."

"It was real then?" Harry interrupted. "She was really memory charmed?"

"Yes," answered the Headmistress, "but not very well. The girl was immediately aware that she had forgotten something. There was no attempt to hide it. It's common with inexperienced casters. She was probably charmed by one of her friends. It's very serious, but it's no reason to close Hogwarts."

Lupin let out a frustrated sigh. "I never said—"

"If I inform the Ministry that we think these girls have been attacked, they will only send more Aurors. The students will become even more frightened and more of these incidents will occur until there really is a reason to close the school. Now, do you honestly think that this is the work of a dark wizard? A poorly cast memory charm and a stunned student? Need I remind you that James and Sirius have caused much more mayhem than this in far less time?"

"No, you certainly don't need to remind me of that," Lupin answered.

"Very well. Is there anything more?"

"I suppose that's up to Harry," answered Lupin. "Do you still wish to leave?"

Harry looked from McGonagall to Lupin. "No. No, I think I'll stay."

"Alright then, I believe we have covered everything," McGonagall said firmly. "Remus, I would like to meet with the other Heads of House. I want all the students to go to their common rooms early tonight. I won't have any more of them walking about and stunning each other."

As Harry walked back to his room, his mind kept returning to the fact that both of the girls had been Muggle-borns. Perhaps McGonagall was right. It could simply be a coincidence. There were a number of Muggle-borns at Hogwarts that year, and yet, it had been odd enough for Lupin to notice. Harry wanted to brush it aside like the Headmistress had, but he simply couldn't. Some small voice in the back of his mind kept telling him that it was important. There was something there he wasn't seeing. There was no such thing as a coincidence.

* * *

That night, after all of the students had been taken back to their common rooms, Harry slipped off to Ginny's room at the end of the corridor. Despite McGonagall's argument, he simply couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something, and considering the current mood about the castle, the fact that he was out of his room wasn't likely to be all that critical. 

"It's not just a random occurrence," he told Ginny as she prodded the flames in the fireplace. "Something is happening. Maybe it's been happening for some time, and no one has noticed it because they've all be writing it off as coincidence and normal behavior."

"Harry," she replied with a soft sigh, "the last time something happened, nearly thirty wizd waste their time wiping students' memories andards were murdered with the Killing Curse. There was no explanation for it at all. Whoever was behind that doesn't seem like the sort who woul hitting them with Stunners that any third year could have cast."

"They were both Muggle-borns."

"That doesn't mean anything. It could just be—"

"A coincidence?" Harry finished for her. "Another one? Like the bizarre chance that killed everyone around me at Cornwall, but left me with a few bruises? Or the fact that Mira not only looks like a younger version of you, but knew about the diary?" Ginny didn't respond. "I wonder how much pain and trouble we could have avoided if anyone had been willing to stop and refuse to accept that it was all just a coincidence."

"So what is it then?"

"I don't know yet," replied Harry as he collapsed into one of the chairs in the room. "It could be some sort of message or signal. Or maybe those students were attacked to trigger some reaction. I really don't know, but I'm certain it's not a coincidence. The Aurors should be investigating them. There must be something to find. I've just got a really bad feeling about—"

Harry stopped abruptly as someone knocked firmly on Ginny's door. Neither of them moved for a moment, as if they were uncertain they had truly heard it. Seconds later, the visitor knocked again, this time a little more urgently.

"Ginny?" Lupin's voice called out from the other side of the door. "Are you there?"

Ginny and Harry both stood up. He knew she had to open the door, and he didn't have time to deal with the hassle of Lupin or McGonagall scolding him for breaking such a pointless rule. As Ginny called out to tell Lupin she was coming, Harry walked across the room to hide in the corner behind the door. So long as he didn't ask to come into the room, he'd never see Harry there. Once he was hidden, Ginny took a deep breath to calm her nerves, and then opened the door.

"I'm sorry to bother you at this hour," Lupin apologized immediately, "but something has happened. We need to find Harry as quickly as possible. He's not in his room. Do you have any idea where he might have gone?"

Ginny paused, obviously hesitant to either lie or tell the truth. Before she could decide how to answer, Harry stepped out from behind the door. Lupin's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"I suppose I should have expected this," Lupin commented to himself. "We can discuss it later." Lupin's expression became very serious. "A student has been attacked, another Muggle-born. She was petrified."

Harry and Ginny followed close behind Lupin as he led them through corridors and down long staircases. The castle appeared completely dark and empty. Wherever he was leading them, it wasn't nearby. As they walked, Harry questioned Lupin about what had happened, looking for some detail that might explain some meaning or purpose behind the attack.

The student was a fourth-year Hufflepuff. She had been attacked in the common room and discovered by one of the prefects who had come to investigate the noise. Lupin was quite certain that the girl had been petrified. Justinian had been fetched from his cabin, but he was quick to conclude that it had not been a Basilisk that had attacked her.

That meant that some wizard had gotten into the common room. The Aurors were busy moving all of the Hufflepuffs to another part of the castle and they were keeping a close eye on the students. No one believed the girl had been attacked by another student. The painting guarding the entrance to the common room had been cursed heavily and was no longer asking for passwords. Whoever attacked her had simply walked in.

"Is that where we're going?" Harry asked Lupin as they walked down another flight of stairs.

"No, we're going to the Hospital Wing."

"The Hospital Wing?" Harry repeated. It was as if he had made some connection in the back of his mind, but he couldn't quite figure out just what it was. He stopped in the middle of the stairs. "Er, why are we going there?"

"Because that is where Patricia Emese is," Lupin answered simply. "Madam Pomfrey and Professor Stanton are already working on the Restorative Draught. I guess we all just assumed that you would want to see her as soon as she woke up."

Suddenly Harry realized what he'd been trying to understand. Everyone assumed he would want to see the girl, and to do that, he'd have to go to the Hospital Wing. He remembered what Evelyn had told him. The attack at Cornwall had happened to get him to go back to Hogwarts. These attacks were obviously trying to bring him to the Hospital Wing. He needed to figure out what was happening, but he refused to let someone else control him. He would do it on his own terms, and perhaps in doing that, he might be able to get some sort of advantage. He felt a surge of energy within him. He knew what to do. For so long he had been running and hiding and trying to protect his friends. It was time for that to end.

"No," he declared in a clear voice. "I want to see her, but not in the Hospital Wing." Ginny and Lupin both stared at him in utter confusion. "Keep her away from Mira Franklin," Harry ordered. "Keep everyone away from her. Move the girl to the Headmistress's office."

"But... Why?" Lupin asked weakly. "Do you think Miss Franklin had something to do with this?"

"Has she been acting strangely recently? Has her condition gotten any worse?"

"No, not at all," Lupin answered. "Quite the opposite. She's been getting much better. Madam Pomfrey was even thinking of letting her leave the Hospital Wing soon."

That was why the attacks had started. No doubt Pomfrey was hoping to let Mira out of the Hospital Wing before Christmas holidays. There really wasn't much time. "I need to fetch some things from my room," Harry announced. The message was clear to Ginny. She quickly walked back up the stairs to stand next to him.

"What is it, Harry?" Lupin asked. "What aren't you saying?"

Harry ignored his question. "Get her to the Headmistress's office. Bring any Aurors who aren't busy, but don't tell Valencia." His voice was strong enough that Lupin accepted the orders without question.

Ginny didn't ask him any questions on their long walk back to their rooms. When he got there, he changed into a new shirt and fresh robes. Something told him he wouldn't be getting to sleep within the next few hours. He could always get some sleep the next morning.

When they both made it back to McGonagall's office, they found a number of somber wizards waiting for them. As Harry had asked, the girl was lying on a sofa at one end of the room. Her body was frozen in a reaction of fear and surprise.

Only two Aurors had arrived, but they were Chatham and Elderbridge, the leaders of the Aurors at Hogwarts. Most of the professors were there, though Justinian Lynch and Valencia were both absent. Apparently Justinian was patrolling the grounds and helping the Aurors who were guarding the gate. Ron and Hermione were also absent. It was said that they were helping the rest of the professors move the other students to the Great Hall where they could be better watched by the Aurors.

Harry walked over to the petrified girl to see if there was anything he might learn from her. By her expression, he guessed that she had seen her attacker, but hadn't thought to be afraid of them. She didn't look terrified. Instead, she was mostly surprised, not as though she feared the person she saw, but simply as if she saw someone she hadn't expected in the common room. The meaning was clear to Harry. She hadn't been attacked by a monster or wizard in a dark hooded cloak. It must have been someone nonthreatening or familiar.

"See something interesting, Potter?" Zoe Elderbridge asked him. "Any clue of who might have done this?"

"No," he whispered, "but whoever it was, I think they're still here. We need to wake her up and find out who did this before they find out what we're doing. If they do, then we're all in danger."

Almost as if were a cue, the door to the office burst open and Tonks strode into the room with her wand drawn. Not far behind her was Simon Weller holding a girl in his arms. She looked to be a sixth or seventh year. Unlike the girl on the sofa, this one was totally limp. Her lips were slightly blue and her cheeks were pale.

"It's Rose Madison!" a professor called out. "What happened to her?"

"We don't know," replied Tonks. "We were moving the Gryffindors to the Great Hall. There was— a flash of light... in the corridor and when we turned back we found her like this. I— I think she's still alive, but I don't know how much longer she'll last."

Someone summoned a large cot and Simon laid the girl down. Everyone in the room seemed to huddle around the girl as a number of them waved their wands over her motionless body. "She's right, the girl _is_ alive," one of them commented. "Could it be the same thing that happened to the Franklin girl?" asked another. "Is it a disease? Is it contagious?"

"No, it's not a disease," Chatham announced. "It some sort of paralysis curse. We need Madam Pomfrey immediately. Miss Emese is in no immediate danger, but this girl is slowly suffocating. If we cannot find some way to lift the curse, she will be dead within the hour."

The office erupted with activity as a number of professors bolted for the door. Harry and Ginny stood and watched as the Aurors and Professor Lupin tried in vain to lift the curse on the poor girl. Discussions about what should be done had already begun. Some wanted to evacuate the school immediately. Others thought they should call for more Aurors. The argument quickly got out of hand, and only paused when Professor McGonagall finally arrived.

"We need to find the wizard who did this before he attacks again!" Chatham shouted over the others.

McGonagall held up her hand to try and calm him. "The other Aurors have already started—"

"They looked before and didn't find anything worse than a few doxies. This is serious Minerva. It's time to admit that something is happening here. I say we light every torch, open every door and check every closet and passageway. We need to take control of the situation."

"There are not enough of us to guard the students and search the castle, Ian. What would you have me do, leave the students to guard themselves?"

"That may be the only option!"

"There are always other options," Lupin commented in calming tones. "Poppy is on her way here. She will cure Miss Madison and then we will have more time to discuss this. We would be better served by trying to understand how this is happening instead of concocting wild plans to track down a wizard who might not even be in the castle. What do we know about the attacks?"

"Not much. Why don't we ask Potter?" Chatham suggested. "This started pretty quick after he showed up."

"Harry isn't doing this," Lupin replied sharply. "He was right here with you while Miss Madison was attacked."

"I don't think he's doing it," the Auror shot back, "but I think he knows more about what's going on than he's been telling us. Why did you order Remus to bring the Miss Emese here?"

Harry didn't answer immediately. He'd brought her here because he didn't want to go to the Hospital Wing. Had the other girl been attacked because he had refused to do as expected?

"You _do_ know something, don't you Potter?" Chatham continued. "Who is doing this? Your Romanian friend? Some enemy you made while you were off hiding from the rest of the wizarding world? You must have some idea."

"I don't," Harry replied emptily, "but I know you won't find them." Cold blood ran through his body as he stared down at the girl. The very first attack had merely robbed a girl of her memories of the previous day. The next girl had been stunned. The next was petrified, and now this girl was nearly dead. "She's a Muggle-born witch, isn't she?" he asked, though he was already certain of the answer.

"Yes," answered Lupin. "Her parents live just outside of London. We sent someone to tell them, but... It will take some time."

"Don't bring them here," Harry commanded. A number of people who had been standing nearby stopped their conversations and turned toward Harry. "It'll only be putting them in danger," he continued, oblivious of the shocked stares he was receiving. "All of the Muggle-borns are in danger. Gather all of them and take them to the Room of Requirement. Lock them in with a pair of Aurors and tell them not to come out until tomorrow night. Tell them to block the door and kill anyone who comes through."

"What?" Lupin choked. "Why—"

"Because it's the only thing I can think of," Harry answered sharply. "Gather everyone else —_everyone_— and barricade yourselves in whatever rooms you can."

"The students are already gathered in the Great Hall," commented Chatham. "The Hufflepuffs are in the dungeons. You're not suggesting anything we haven't already done."

"But _you're_ still here," Harry shot back. "_Everyone_ needs to go. Whoever is doing this, you won't find them by searching the castle. Even if you do find them, you can't hope to fight them. You need to hide."

Harry walked silently through the group of bewildered witches and wizards, ignoring their comments as he passed. When he reached the door to the office, he heard the Headmistress calling for him to stop. He paused and waited for her to catch up to him.

"What is happening, Harry? Where are you going?" she asked with real concern.

Harry returned a somber look. "The next one will be killed," he said in a low voice. McGonagall simply frowned. She had been obviously thinking the same thing. "I think I know what will stop it, but I don't know what will happen when I do it. There isn't much time. You have to move quickly." McGonagall frowned in disapproval, but she nodded and quickly turned back toward the rest of the room. As Harry slipped through the door and started down the steps, he could hear her voice echoing in the office, commanding everyone to do as he had said.

He reached the bottom of the stairs and strode out into the corridor. He knew what he had to do, he just didn't know why. What purpose could it serve? Was it some sort of trap? Was he supposed to be learning something he hadn't before? Before he'd gotten far, he heard the light tapping of footsteps running toward him.

"Harry!" Ginny cried out. "I'm coming with you."

It wasn't terribly surprising. He'd expected her to follow him. He'd even planned for it. He already knew what she'd say. Now he only had to hope that she would listen.

"You're going to see her, aren't you?" she asked with a trembling voice. "Harry, you know that's what they want. You know you're walking into a trap."

"No, the trap is not going to see her," he argued. "They are all girls, Ginny. They're all Muggle-borns, and each time the attack is more serious. I can't let another one be attacked."

"They'll be safe in the Room of Requirement," Ginny insisted. "You shouldn't do this alone. Let the Aurors handle the Muggle-borns. They—"

"They don't have all the Muggle-borns," Harry finished for her. "There's still one more they haven't thought of."

Ginny clapped her hand over her mouth and stared at him in horror. "Hermione," she gasped, "and Ron will be with her."

Harry nodded quickly. "I need you to find them. Go back and talk to Tonks. I trust her and Simon. The three of you need to find Hermione."

"Come with me," Ginny begged. "You can do this once we know Hermione is safe."

"No... there's no time," he said though he didn't believe it. The last girl had probably only been attacked because he had made it obvious he wasn't going to the Hospital Wing. "You need to find Hermione as quickly as you can. Once you do, I want you to do one more thing for me. I need you to contact the Brotherhood. They'll trust you more than they trust me."

"What? Why would they—"

Her voice trailed off after noticing Harry's expression. "I don't want to talk about that right now. Believe me, I wish I was wrong, but I don't think..." He rubbed his forehead and noticed that it felt warmer than usual, but pushed it out of his mind. "Once Hermione is safe, you need to get a message to the Brotherhood. Tell them we need whatever help they can give us as quickly as they can arrange it. A few good wizards would be nice."

He hadn't wanted to have to mention the Brotherhood, but it worked. She stopped arguing after he had suggested she might be linked to them. It confirmed fears which had been building within him over the last few months. She and Josef had spent quite a bit of time together and they were getting increasingly better at meeting without being noticed. It was fairly obvious that Josef was teaching her the techniques that the Brotherhood used to pass messages to each other.

There was only one possible explanation: Josef was trying to recruit Ginny into the Brotherhood. It wasn't as though this was the first time that Harry had thought of such a thing. Josef himself had suggested it during the time that he and Harry had worked together. Though he'd never said it aloud, Harry had secretly hoped Ginny would join them. However, all of that changed when Grigore turned on him. Now the idea was a troublesome one.

As Harry walked, he tried to understand what had caused it. Josef must have found something Ginny wanted. Despite its diversity and long history, the methods the Brotherhood used for recruiting members were relatively primitive. Members were selected and convinced to join by promising something in return for their loyalty. In Harry's case, it had been the safety of his friends. For Henri D'Anneau, it had been power. What could Ginny have wanted? The Brotherhood was already helping them. Josef had already promised to protect her family. She had repeatedly told Harry that she trusted him protect her, though she didn't understand the reasons behind everything he did.

Perhaps that was the answer. Had Josef offered to give her reasons? How many of them could he know? How much had he told Ginny already? Harry didn't know which troubled him more: the thought of Josef passing secrets to Ginny, or the thought that Ginny might know things that even he didn't.

Harry pushed the thoughts from his mind as he came to a stop outside the main doors to the Hospital Wing. He needed to concentrate. His scar tingled faintly, though he couldn't tell if it was real or simply his mind searching for some validation that he had interpreted the situation correctly. He pulled his wand from his pocket and slowly pushed the door open.

He thought he had been prepared for anything. Part of him had expected to be attacked the moment he walked into the room, though he had admitted it was equally possible that he would find Valencia standing in the center of the room, waiting for him with a malevolent smile. What he wasn't prepared for was a completely empty room with only a few torches lit as proof.

There was no one there. Not even Mira. In fact, her entire bed had vanished. What had they done? Had they moved her to St. Mungo's? That wouldn't make any sense. Madam Pomfrey was just about to release her. As Harry walked forward, he noticed a new source of light. A small corridor near the far end of the room was glowing faintly. It was the corridor that led to the room they had put Marius after he had been attacked. Perhaps Pomfrey had moved Mira there to keep her away from the other students.

Harry walked to the opening and carefully followed the corridor to its end, where he found the last door shut tightly. A simple sign on the door confirmed Harry's guess: _Miraphora Franklin_. With his wand drawn, he reached for the handle and slowly pushed on the door.

It opened slowly with a soft, echoing creak. The room was absolutely dark, but as soon as he stepped through the doorway a pair of lamps flickered to life and filled the room with a warm yellow glow. The place where Marius Lipton's bed had stood was now empty. The other bed remained, but it was conspicuously empty. The sheets were tossed aside and the pillow was lying nearby on the ground.

Harry paused in the doorway and peered about the room, looking for some sign of Mira or where she might have gone. He cast a few quick charms looking for anyone who might be hiding under an Invisibility Cloak or similar enchantment. Finding nothing, he stepped further into the room, toward the only bed, and reached down to touch the sheets. They were cold. Mira must have left some time ago. For an instant, he wondered if she could have attacked the other girls. The thought was quickly discarded, though. It simply didn't make any sense. If the purpose of the attacks was to draw him back to her, why would she be gone? A chill ran through his body. Perhaps he was wrong. If he was, then he'd just left Ginny wandering about the castle with only a pair of Aurors to guard her. He turned around to run for the door, and froze immediately.

Mira was curled up and sitting in the corner behind the door. Her fiery red hair was framing a pair of wide brown eyes. She was staring up at Harry with a look of immeasurable horror. Instinctively, he raised his wand and spun around, looking for whatever threat was terrorizing her so much. Finding, nothing, he looked back at her and saw that her expression had not changed. He walked forward and kneeled down in front of her.

"What's wrong, Mira?" he asked softly. "What's happened?"

"Why am I here?" she whispered as she started shaking in fear. "This is where Marius died. Is it my turn now?"

"No. No one is going to die," he tried to reassure her. She said nothing in response but blinked a pair of tears from her eyes. It was only then that the oddness of the situation hit Harry. Mira had left her bed some time ago and sat in the corner against the door.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked her. "Was... was someone else in the room with you?"

For a moment, her breathing became shallow and sporadic. She appeared to be trying to say something, but Harry couldn't make it out. "Who else was here, Mira?" he asked her. "Please tell me. We can protect you."

"No— You... can't," she replied breathily. Slowly she raised her left hand and stared at it as if she was trying to read some message on it. Harry leaned closer to try and figure out what she was looking for, but there was nothing. Her hand was clean and without any sort of mark or scar.

"There was no one else," she said in a clearer voice. "I was trying to find you."

Her sudden response caught Harry off guard and he didn't know what to say. "You were trying to find _me_?" he asked. "Why? Do you know something about these attacks? Do you know what I'm supposed to find?"

Mira's demeanor changed instantly. She lunged for Harry, clutching at his robes and staring up at him with desperation. "You _must_ stop it. It's horrible. You cannot understand—"

"What's horrible?" Harry asked.

"_It's going to kill her!_" Miraphora shouted. "I wanted to tell you. I tried to find a way... It's too strong."

"What is it? Who is doing this? Is it Auguste Reynard?" Harry asked. "Is Valencia helping him?" He could hear the desperation in his own voice.

"You have no idea..." she replied, her whispers trailing off into silence. "You're blind. You keep looking, but you cannot see it. You've been staring at the answer all this time..." She looked up at him with an eerie green light shining through her eyes.

Harry recoiled suddenly. He wrenched her hands from his robes and pointed his wand directly at Mira. If she was going to try anything like what the Italian Keeper had done, he would have to kill her before she succeeded. Of course, if she was at all similar to him, it might be a pointless attempt.

"Why don't you ask Granger?" she replied in a strange voice. "If you want answers, look for her. There is something in the old Charms Tower you might find very interesting."

Harry stepped away from her and looked toward the door. What had happened to her? If he tried to leave, would she stop him? As he watched her, the light in her eyes faded and she fell back against the wall. With one hand, she reached up to the scar on her forehead and gasped in pain as she touched it.

"What... What have I— I didn't..." she stammered as she tried to look at Harry. "You mustn't— It—" She seemed to be trying to speak, but each attempt ended in a strangled gasp for breath. Harry kept his distance, unwilling to take any risks. Mira struggled to say something, but she only managed to get out the words "danger" and "Hermione."

Harry felt his heart pounding in his chest. Hermione was in danger. When he sent Ginny out to find her, he hadn't honestly thought that she would be in any danger so long as he did what he was supposed to. He'd been wrong. The whole point had been separating him from her, and now he'd gone and sent Ginny off to find her.

There was nothing he could do to help Mira. She was crying and shaking now, but she didn't appear to be in any danger. There was no telling just how much peril Hermione was in. Perhaps something had already happened. That thought tore at Harry's mind as he ran out the door and back through the main hall of the Hospital Wing. A flick of his wand ripped open the doors leading out of the Wing and he sprinted down the corridor which would lead him back toward the old Charms Tower.

The entire castle was dark and silent. The only sounds in Harry's ears were the hissing of flame as torches flared to life ahead of him and the echoing strikes of his feet on the stone floor. The emptiness was suffocating. He'd done just about the worst thing he could have. There were no Aurors to help him and he'd sent Ginny and the only other wizards who weren't hiding into the most dangerous situation possible. Panic spurred him forward, running as quickly as he could.

He passed through a low arch and skidded around a corner which would lead him to the stairs outside the Great Hall. He bolted up the stairs as quickly as he could. At the top he was forced to finally stop and catch his breath. Just as he was about to continue running, he heard a voice calling out to him.

"Harry!" Ginny was shouting. "Harry, stop!"

It took all of his will to keep from running to Ginny and embracing her. Ginny was safe, and Tonks and Simon were right behind her. His elation was followed by a wave of guilt.

"Something's happened to Hermione," Ginny announced. "The Aurors said that they saw her helping move the students to the Great Hall. She was supposed to go to McGonagall's office, but she never showed up."

"What about Ron?" The moment he asked, he recognized the fear in Ginny's eyes.

"Ron's unconscious, Harry," she told him. "He's still alive, but— They said it looked like he'd been stunned, but they haven't been able to revive him yet. He's fine for now. They've got him in the Trophy Room. Lupin is watching him."

"What about Valencia? Is she with Lupin?"

"No," answered Tonks. "We don't know where she is. Lynch came in and found Lupin. He's worried about her as well, but I wouldn't be surprised if she went to find the old dungeon where the Hufflepuffs are hiding just to stay away from him."

"Did you see Mira?" Ginny asked. "Is it going to stop?"

"I— I don't know."

"What do we need to do?" she asked firmly. Her eyes were steady and her expression was filled with resolve. Harry knew where he needed to go, and now that he knew Ginny was safe, it was the last place he wanted her to follow him.

"Hermione is in the Astronomy Tower," he lied. "She's probably trying to contact the Brotherhood. Go find her. Make sure she gets someplace safe."

"Aren't you coming with us?" Ginny asked with pleading eyes. "What else..."

"Don't worry about me," he said as confidently as he could. "Just find Hermione. I'll find Valencia." This didn't seem to please Ginny, Tonks or Simon, but none of them made any attempt to stop him. Ginny gave him a concerned look and began walking away slowly.

"I'll see you soon, Harry," she declared. "We'll meet you at the Great Hall."

He could hear the doubt in her voice. She didn't believe him. That was alright. He only needed to keep her far from the Old Charms Tower for a short while, and it would take her quite some time to walk to the Astronomy Tower and find out that Hermione wasn't there. By that time, he'd have already dealt with whatever was waiting for him in the Old Charms Tower.

It took him only a few minutes to reach the staircase leading up to the deserted tower. Luckily, it was one of the shortest towers in the castle. As its name implied, the Charms classroom had once been located at its top level. However, during his first year at Hogwarts Professor Flitwick declared it unsuitable and used one of the standard classrooms instead.

Harry reached a small landing at the top of the stairs. On one side was a large window that looked out across the darkened grounds. On the other was a sturdy wooden door. Carefully and very quietly, he walked to the door and attempted to open it.

It was locked. He attempted to force the door open, but quickly gave up. He didn't have time for such simple attempts. Giving up on secrecy, he called out for Hermione, hoping to get some sort of response. After a moment of silence, he raised his wand to the lock. He left the Headmistress's office expecting that he'd be forced to use his wand. There was no point in putting it off any longer.

The door burst open with a flash of light from Harry's wand. He raced into the room, quickly stepping around the door to use it as shelter from any attacks.

No attacks came. The large room was silent and the only light was the dim glow of the moon as it filtered through the clouds and slipped into the room through a number of windows. He pressed himself against the wall behind him and crept along it with his wand pointed into the center of the room. His eyes scanned through the cluttered silhouettes filling the room, looking for threats or signs of danger. Eventually, the urgency of the situation surpassed his desire for caution and he slashed his wand at the dark outline of a lamp against another nearby wall.

It blazed to life and once again he crouched down and dodged a phantom attack that never came. His eyes strained against the light, searching for something new, but there was nothing.

The room was oddly jumbled. One large table near the center of the room was covered in scrolls of parchment, but they were strewn about and scattered across the floor below. A few of the chairs were lying on their sides. As Harry walked closer to the table, he noticed that nearly half of it was covered in a dark, glossy liquid. After a tense moment, he found the source. An empty inkwell was lying on the floor next to a ruffled quill.

Something had happened in the room. It didn't look at all like the work of Peeves. Hermione had left in a hurry. Even the report of a petrified student didn't explain the state of the room. He stared down at the parchment, cursing the ink for covering anything that might have told him what she'd been looking at. The only scrolls that weren't ruined were filled with discussions of dark magic and arcane rituals. What had she been looking for? Had she found the same thing Josef had?

There must be something. He'd been sent to the Hospital Wing to talk to Mira. Mira had told him that he would find answers here. Of course, it hadn't really been Mira, just like it hadn't been Cirillo Presagio killing all those people at Cornwall. Even Hermione hadn't been acting like herself for some time. It was getting harder to convince himself that even Auguste Reynard was capable of such things.

He shuffled the parchment about randomly, hoping to spot something of worth, but there simply wasn't anything that was giving him any answers. He was running out of time. He hadn't done anything that made him think the attacks might stop, and no one seemed to know where Hermione was. Anger swelled within him and his head began to throb from the frustration and lack of sleep. There were no answers. Mira said Hermione had the answers, and the only thing he knew for certain was that Hermione wasn't there. He spun around to leave as quickly as he could, but froze almost immediately.

His eyes were fixed on the wall he'd been standing against after he entered the old classroom. Stretching across the top of the wall in letters still dripping with some red viscous liquid was a chilling message Harry hoped he would never see again:

_Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever._

* * *

**Author's Notes: **

I'd like to say I'm sorry for the ending, but I'm not. If you think that was a cliffhanger, then buckle up for the next chapter: "The Chamber of Secrets". I should have it posted by Thursday morning. Wednesday morning if you're lucky.**  
**


	21. The Chamber of Secrets

_This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

**CHAPTER 21**

**The Chamber of Secrets**

* * *

Harry walked along the darkened corridor trying to decide if he was completely mental for even thinking about doing what he was about to do. It couldn't be a coincidence. Nothing else was. The meaning was clear. It fit everything he'd seen before. 

It had all been one large, impossibly elaborate plan. It was nearly unfathomable: the words Mira had written on the wall when she was first attacked, the dreams, the strange symbols, and now the second message. They had all been designed to point him in one direction.

He stopped outside the door to the third floor girl's bathroom. He knew he was supposed to be there. Mira had written the first message nearby. That should have been enough. It had been pretty obvious. The diary had been there as well as a mirror. Whoever was doing this wanted him to remember the Chamber of Secrets. It was the same bathroom which had concealed the entrance to the Chamber seven years ago. The same sink he'd used then was now marked with a different symbol, a symbol he'd seen in a number of dreams about the Chamber. He was _meant_ to be here. He just didn't know why.

Would Hermione be on the other side? Who had taken her? Would they even be here, or had he been led there just to be given some other message? For the first time in his life, he found himself wishing that Moaning Myrtle were around.

There was nothing he could do. He couldn't wait. Hermione needed his help. There was no more time to waste. With his wand in one hand, he reached out with the other and shoved the door open. He darted inside the bathroom and quickly dodged to one side, putting his back against the wall and aiming his wand in the general direction of the sink where he had found the mark.

There was nothing there.

Harry's eyes narrowed as he slowly began to search the room, never willing to let his sight stray too far from the sink. The room was empty. Cautiously, he stepped toward the sink, crouching down as he approached. Just as it had been before, he found the strange symbol of a circle separated by three evenly spaced lines scratched into the tap.

Nothing had changed. What was he missing? He was supposed to be there, but what was he supposed to do? He must have missed something.

Harry began looking about the room again, this time trying to notice any small detail that might help him figure out what was going on. When he found nothing, he tried again, looking even harder. Not knowing anything else to try, he walked over to the stalls and checked each of them one by one. He sighed in frustration as he approached the last one. He already knew they were all empty. There was nothing to find. He must have made a mistake. He pushed the stall door and nearly jumped out of his skin.

Moaning Myrtle was crouched on top of the seat of the toilet, staring up at him with wide, unblinking eyes. After recovering, Harry walked back to the stall and pushed the door open again. Myrtle had not moved. She was as still as a statue and barely seemed to acknowledge Harry's presence. Slowly, Harry noticed a number of odd things about her. Her eyes were staring at him with a disturbing, empty gaze, and she was curled up as if she were trying to protect herself from something.

She was hiding.

Harry crouched down and looked into her eyes. Suddenly, he recognized her expression. She was terrified. Harry felt a chill run down his spine. What could possibly frighten a ghost? What could make a ghost want to hide? Why wouldn't she just run away?

"Are you alright, Myrtle?" he asked softly. Her eyes twitched to focus on him, but she remained silent.

"What happened?" he continued. "Did you see something?" She still didn't respond. He tried to think of anything he might do to get her to speak, but there honestly wasn't anything. And yet, whatever she'd seen or heard must have been convincing enough to frighten her. That only made Harry even more eager to find Hermione, and he didn't have time to try and help Myrtle.

"I have to find Hermione," he announced. "If you've seen her, please tell me. I don't know what's going on, but I'm afraid something horrible is about to happen." Still, Myrtle didn't respond. With a frown, Harry turned to leave. "If you decide to leave your stall, I could use some help. Goodbye."

He let the door to the stall close with a faint squeal. He must have missed something, but whatever it was, it didn't appear to be in the bathroom. He strode toward the door, but before he reached it, a voice stopped him.

"They were here," Myrtle called out. Harry spun around and found Myrtle standing just outside the stall. Her expression was filled with as much fear as it had been before, and it was somehow more disturbing now that she was standing up.

"Who was here?" Harry asked as he walked back toward her.

"A young witch and... someone else," she replied.

"A young witch? Was it Hermione?" he asked.

"I... I don't know. Which one was she? She's not the redhead, is she?"

Harry took a deep breath. Even after seven years Myrtle still didn't know who Hermione was. "No, she's not," he answered impatiently. "How about the other one? Have you seen them before? What did they look like?"

"It— It was old," she replied in a hollow tone. "Very old."

Harry didn't really need to know any more. It didn't really matter who it was. He just needed to know what to do. "Where did they go? Did you hear anything?"

Myrtle didn't answer, but she slowly raised her arm and pointed directly at the tap where Harry had found the carved symbol.

"What does that mean?" he asked her. "Did they do something to it? Is there some hint that I haven't—"

"She _hissed_," Myrtle whispered. "I think the other one made her. I— I wasn't looking. I think they went down."

"But they couldn't have," he argued. "There isn't anywhere to go over there. There hasn't been for seven years. Dumbledore sealed it off. It doesn't lead—"

Myrtle just stared back at him. "They were there and then they weren't."

He strode back toward the sink. "It doesn't work anymore!" he shouted. "Dumbledore fixed it. I tried it before, just to be sure. This sink doesn't lead anywhere!"

"That can't stop it," Myrtle whispered. "Nothing can. They opened it. She hissed, and they both went down."

"It's impossible—" Harry began, but he stopped suddenly and remembering how the Italian Keeper had managed to cast a curse that should not have been possible. He'd tried to open the sink before. It hadn't worked. Would it now? He stared down at it and decided there was only one way to find out. He concentrated for a moment, then slowly, he began speaking.

"_Open,_" he hissed.

With a rumble, the sink began moving. It slid down slowly until it vanished under the floor, leaving an all too familiar pipe exposed. Harry just looked at it in shock, barely believing what he'd just seen.

"Don't go," pleaded Myrtle. "You're in danger."

Harry stared down the pipe. "I would have thought you'd be happy at the thought of me dying," he commented. "Someone to join you, right?"

Myrtle just shook her head stiffly. "You wouldn't come back. They never do. It doesn't let them."

"Well that's where Hermione's gone," Harry said sharply, "and I'm going to bring her back." Without waiting for Myrtle's response, Harry jammed his wand into his pocket and lowered himself into the pipe.

* * *

Ginny had been pacing outside the entrance to the Great Hall for some time. The main doors were open just wide enough for one person to slip through, but Tonks and Simon weren't taking any chances. Both of them were standing on either side of the opening with their wands drawn. 

"If you honestly believe Harry knew what he was talking about, then we need to close these doors, Ginny," Tonks reasoned with her. "Harry ordered us to protect the students. He knew we wouldn't wait. If it took him this long to find Valencia, it means that they found someplace else to hide."

"He never went looking for Valencia," Ginny announced as she stared up into the blackness of the Entrance Hall. "He's looking for something else."

"Then we have to assume he found it," Simon commented.

Ginny whirled about to glare at him. "That's what I'm afraid of." She turned back to look at the staircase. There was no sound or flicker of light to suggest that anyone might be nearby. Harry had never intended to return to the Great Hall. He had known that they wouldn't find Hermione in the Astronomy Tower. It was just an excuse to get away. Why did he always insist on facing danger alone? Did he think it was any easier on her?

Ginny began pacing again, trying to work out just what he might be doing. He knew more than he'd told them. He knew that Hermione wasn't in the Astronomy Tower, but it was easier to know where she wasn't than where she was. Was she truly missing? Or had he just used that as a diversion? It seemed like a terribly risky thing to do if there was a dark wizard stalking the corridors.

She came to an abrupt stop. Why would Harry do such a thing? It didn't make sense. It was unlike Harry in so many ways. He always had a tendency to be overprotective of her in dangerous situations. Why would he risk sending her all the way across the castle while he told everyone else to hide? If there was a dangerous wizard lurking about, it would only put her in even more danger—

Unless he already knew where the attacker was.

That must have been it. He knew where the danger was and he sent her in the opposite direction. How long had he known? Did he order everyone to take shelter in order to keep them safe, or just to clear out the corridors so he could sneak off without being seen?

"What is it?" Tonks asked in response to Ginny's sudden change in stance.

"Something bad is happening," Ginny said ominously. "Harry's in danger. He knows what's causing this."

"Well, what is it?" Simon pressed her.

"I don't know," Ginny replied, "but I know where he found the answer." Before either of the Aurors had a chance to stop her, she ran for the stairs. Tonks tried following her, but Simon stopped her with a harsh warning. Ginny disappeared down a corridor a moment later, leaving them behind her. She hoped they would take Harry's advice and lock the doors. Having Aurors and professors running about wouldn't make her job any easier.

When she had seen Harry at the top of the main stairs, there had been something slightly off about his behavior. At the time she had assumed it was just a little anxiety because of attacks, but that didn't make as much sense now. He'd gone off to see Mira and something he had seen or heard there had shaken him.

That thought alone was enough to worry Ginny. She paused to try to relax her nerves. There were a hundred things it could have been and none of them were good. As she began creeping through the moonlit hallway, her mind tried to eliminate the worst of the possibilities.

He hadn't been injured, but he'd been out of breath. He must have run the entire way from the Hospital Wing. He had paused to rest, so he must have been headed some distance. Ginny paused again, torn by the thought that she was walking away from Harry, not toward him. Perhaps she could find him if she simply tried to follow him. He had run off in the opposite direction of the Astronomy Tower. Considering that was where he sent her, it seemed likely the tower was the farthest place from where he was going. However, that didn't help as much as she might have hoped. The Astronomy Tower was the farthest point from a large part of the castle. She might never find Harry even if they were both looking for each other. The only way she was going to find him was if she was able to find out exactly where he'd gone. With stronger resolve, she began walking faster.

The corridor she was walking along turned into the center of the castle and plunged her into darkness. She had no time for fumbling around in the dark. If she was able to figure out where Harry was, she would still need to cross most of the castle to get to him. She pulled out her wand and held it out in front of her, filling the corridor with a pure white light. It was risky, but she was more and more confident that if there was anything dangerous in the castle, it was with Harry.

She eventually reached the Hospital Wing and tossed open the doors with a flick of her wand. She immediately realized that the main hall was deserted. It hadn't been that long since Harry had been there and she doubted that Mira's absence alone would have caused his behavior. She turned her wand on the floor and walls, searching for some hint as to what Harry might have seen. As she approached the far end of the hall, she found the narrow corridor which led to the room where they had visited Marius. A lamp in the last room was still lit.

"_Nox,_" hissed Ginny, letting the light from her wand disappear. She couldn't think of any reason for her to suddenly need to hide her presence now that she finally got where she wanted to be, but there was something intangible which was making her very uncomfortable. It wasn't fear. It was something more foreign to her. It felt almost as if she was sneaking into someone else's home. There was no fear or feeling of danger. She simply felt _unwelcome_.

Inching closer to the doorway, she saw the dim light of a lamp flickering from the near side of the room. The rest of the room was a jumble of shadows which grew and shifted in the wavering light of the single lamp. As Ginny stepped into the room, she saw the smashed remnants of the second lamp lying on the floor. The remaining lamp had not escaped unscathed, either. It was shattered, but not destroyed, its flame withering yet still alive.

The room seemed to close in on her. Ginny paused and searched the shadows, uncertain of what she was looking for. What did this mean? Did Harry do this? Or did someone else do this when Harry arrived? Where was Mira? Cold dread began seeping into Ginny's skin. Something was terribly wrong. She remembered being in the room with Marius Lipton. The feeling was similar and even stronger, though without so much malice. Knowing she wouldn't learn anything in the dim light, she raised her wand and tried to prepare herself for whatever she might see.

Soft, clean light sprung from the tip of her wand. It did provide more light, but not as much as she had expected. It seemed almost as though the shadows were swallowing the light. Not far from her feet she could see the battered pieces of the lamp. She shielded her eyes from her own wand and pointed it down at the twisted metal.

She was suddenly interrupted by the unmistakable sound of a girl sobbing. It had been short, yet distinct. Ginny turned her wand in the direction of the sound and saw a brilliant flash of red hair tucked behind the bed on the near wall. She leaped over the broken lamp and stepped around the bed. There, huddling in the corner between the bed and the wall was Mira Franklin. As Ginny approached, she covered her face with her arms and began rocking back and forth.

"No," she sobbed lightly, "no, no... Please. I don't want to..."

Ginny knelt down next to the small girl and reached out to comfort her. Mira jerked away violently, pressing herself back against the wall. "Mira, it's me, Ginny. It's alright. I'm not here to hurt you." This didn't seem to have the effect Ginny intended. Instead of relaxing, Mira coughed and let out a mournful wail. Ginny approached her again with similar results as the first attempt.

"What is it?" Ginny asked. "What happened?"

"It's my fault," squeaked Mira. "It's all my fault. I—" She paused to let out a pair of choked sobs. "It's my fault. I didn't mean to. I— I didn't—"

"What's your fault?"

Mira tumbled onto her side and let out a tortured moan. "I brought him here!" she cried. "I didn't want to! I tried to stop it, I— It's my fault!" Her body went limp and shuddered as she began crying uncontrollably.

Ginny felt her stomach tighten. "You brought who here?"

Mira covered her face with her hands. "_I'm sorry,_" she wailed. "I'm so sorry. I couldn't— I couldn't..."

For the third time, Ginny reached out for Mira. This time, the young girl wasn't as quick and Ginny managed to grab onto one of her arms.

Mira's demeanor changed instantly. She dropped her other arm to reveal her face as she stared at Ginny with mortal terror. Her legs kicked off against the wall twisting her own arm in an attempt to pull free. Ginny held on, hoping she might prove that she wasn't there to hurt the girl.

"Get away from me!" Mira screamed wildly. "You have to get away! I'm sorry, I didn't— Please, no... You've got to make it stop, I didn't—"

Ginny finally released her and Mira quickly slid herself into the corner of the room. As Ginny approached slowly, the younger girl cringed from the light. With a whispered command it was gone, leaving the two of them crouching in the weakening light of the nearby lamp. Mira wasn't paying any attention to Ginny anymore. She was simply sitting and staring down at her left hand.

"No... please don't," she whispered. "I won't, I swear. I promise I won't—"

"What are you talking about?" Ginny asked gently. "What is happening?"

Mira's head jerked up suddenly and she stared directly into Ginny's face. "What color are my eyes?" she asked with surprising urgency.

"I— Why does that—"

"_What color are they?_" Mira snapped with sudden ferocity. Behind her anger, there was something even more disturbing. Mira's whole body was shaking with fear.

"Brown," Ginny answered immediately. "They're brown just like mine."

Mira slumped forward a little in what looked like relief. However, if anything, she became even shakier. Her eyes jerked about, looking down at her hands, then at Ginny, then to the dying light of the lamp before finally coming to rest on Ginny's wand. She started breathing faster and faster as she focused intently on the wand. Ginny began to worry about what Mira might be thinking. She was not prepared for the truth.

"Kill me," Mira demanded in a steady voice.

"_What?_"

"Kill me," she repeated. "I don't want this. I can't take it. Kill me now. Please don't let this happen. I'm sorry. You have to believe me. I did everything I could."

"What are you talking about?" Ginny asked.

Mira lunged forward with all the speed of a striking snake. Before Ginny could react, Mira's hands were grasping at Ginny's wand with impossible strength. As Ginny tried to pull her wand away, Mira wrenched her wrist upward so that they tip of the wand was pointing up at Mira's head. Mira began whispering in some forgotten language, making the wand glow with an unnatural red light. Ginny panicked. She tried to pull her wand away with all her strength, but to no avail. Mira's voice became louder, but just as she reached the end of the incantation, her eyes flashed a malevolent green and all strength left her hands.

Ginny fell back on the floor, still holding her wand and uncertain about what had just happened. Mira had collapsed in the corner and was crying with renewed force. However, they were now the cries of someone who was utterly defeated and without hope.

"What is happening?" Ginny asked in a sharper tone.

"Please... you have to end it," Mira pleaded in misery. "I can't do it. I can't. I don't want this." Ginny watched in horror as Mira spotted a large shard of glass from the broken lamp and shot forward to grab it off the floor. For a second she just held it in her hand, then finding the sharpest point she drove it toward her neck.

"Mira, no!" Ginny shrieked.

Just before the shard pierced her neck, Mira's arm flinched and a sharp _crack_ echoed through the room, making Ginny wince. When she opened her eyes, Mira's hand was empty and her expression was one of surprise and despair.

"You have to kill me," she whispered. "It won't let me. I— I can't go on... not like this. All the pain and anger and hatred... I can't— Don't you see? Don't you see what it's doing to me?"

Mira held up her hand and Ginny suddenly realized what was making Mira act so strangely. The skin of her hand was paler than the rest of her arm, but bluish black streaks had started at her fingertips and were slowly making their way up her arm.

"You have to go," Mira said in a weak voice. "I... I can't fight it. I don't have the strength. I've been fighting it for so long. I'm tired. I— Please don't make me. I said I was sorry. I didn't mean to bring him here. You have to believe me."

"Who are you talking about?" asked Ginny. "Is it Harry? Is that who you brought here?"

"I didn't know," she sobbed. "No one told me it was happening. When I realized, I— I tried to stop it, I tried to run away, but I... It was too late." Mira sat back against the wall and stared down at her hand as the darkness grew and spread slowly past her wrist.

"I... I admired him so much," she said in a more controlled tone. "You probably know what that's like. I... I thought he was dead just like everyone else. I think you might be the only other person who could understand how it felt. Then I met Marius and it came for me. It was like I had been trapped in the worst nightmares for an eternity and then suddenly I woke up and I was in his arms." Tears began rolling down the side of her cheeks. "It was... Amazing and terrifying at the same time. I looked up at him and I saw— I saw _it_... and suddenly I understood what it all meant. It had shown it to me. I had seen everything that was going to happen, and I realized it was all my fault."

Ginny felt her heart racing. "Why is it your fault, Mira?" she asked. "What is going to happen?"

Mira's eyes opened wide and stared at Ginny. "Please listen to me. It's not your fault. It's my fault. I should have been stronger. It's not... You did the right thing. You did what you had to. I tried... just... forgive me, please? I never meant to hurt him. I know you're angry but, there must be mercy within you as well."

Ginny was starting to get confused. "What are you talking about? What does this have to do with Harry? He came here, didn't he?

"Yes," she answered slowly. "He came here looking for answers, and he found them." Her voice was thin and strained, as though she had to fight to say every word. "I didn't want to... it made me."

"Where is he going?" Ginny asked in a firm voice. "Where did you tell him to go?"

"Please don't make me do this," Mira begged. "I did the rest of it. I can't face it... I promised—"

"Who did you promise?" Ginny snapped. "What have you done? Where did you send Harry?"

"No..." Mira whispered as she stared at Ginny. "You can't.. You mustn't..."

"I love him," Ginny insisted. "I won't let him face this alone. I _am_ going to help him."

Mira's eyes filled with a deep sorrow. "No, please trust me," she said quickly. "You mustn't go. It'll be worse if you do. There's nothing you can do to change it. If you go—"

Mira's voice stopped with a strangled gasp. The dark streaks on her arm had begun moving faster. She had noticed this as well, and her breathing became faster and more urgent.

"Please, you've— got to stay away," Mira choked out. He hands clawed at the dark streaks which wound around her neck. "It's... a trap," she said in a hoarse whisper.

"You sent Harry into a trap?" Ginny cried out as he watched the girl struggle in vain for air. "Where did he go? You have to tell me!"

Streaks of black wound up over her jaw, flowing toward the scar in the center of her forehead. Ginny guessed there wasn't much time left. Ignoring her fears, she grabbed Mira by the shoulders and shook her. "Where is Harry?"

"He's in the—" she answered in a raspy whisper, "—the Chamber of Secrets."

Her chest heaved and her mouth opened to say something, but no sound came out. Her eyes darkened until they were nothing more than glassy black orbs without any trace of life. Mira shuddered one more time, then lay completely still. Slowly, the blackness faded, leaving her chocolate brown eyes staring emptily at the ceiling.

It took Ginny a moment to get over the shock of what Mira had said and the realization that she had died saying it. She paced about the room for a minute or more, trying to come to terms with her guilt and uncertainty. There was nothing she could have done. She saw it happening and could think of no way to stop it. It had happened far too fast for her to get any help. Mira had known what was happening. She could have called for help, but she didn't.

_Mira knew what was happening._ The sudden understanding struck at Ginny like a knife. Mira said she'd seen everything and she knew she was going to die before Ginny even walked into the room.

Ginny felt her throat tighten. No one should ever have to face that. It was bad enough that she had to die, but she had died blaming herself for putting Harry in danger and Ginny had only made it worse. It wasn't Mira's fault. She hadn't been in control of herself.

She wiped a pair of tears from her eyes and gathered every bit of courage she had. Mira had died telling her where to find Harry and that was what she needed to focus on. She didn't have any memories of actually going into the Chamber of Secrets, but she remembered where Ron, Hermione and Harry had told her the entrance was. She also remembered them saying that Dumbledore had sealed it. How could she expect to get past a barrier created by one of the most powerful wizards in history? How could anyone?

She didn't have answers. She only knew that was where Harry had gone. If she was lucky, she would find him there, still trying to figure out how to get in. She didn't want to think about any other possibilities, she just wanted to get there as quickly as she could. Pocketing her wand, she nodded in silent respect to Mira, then strode off through the doorway.

* * *

Harry slid out of the end of the pipe and onto damp stone. The dark tunnel was disturbingly familiar. He took a moment to try and get his bearings. Almost immediately he got the feeling that something wasn't right. Instead of instantly lighting his wand, he stopped and tried to listen and figure out if anyone had heard him come down the pipe. 

After a minute without any signs of anyone else nearby, Harry began walking forward very cautiously. The tunnel was still strewn with the broken and scattered remnants of ageless small skeletons, and Harry was forced to light his wand very dimly in order to avoid stepping on the loudest bones.

He turned a corner and in the pale light, he saw piles of rubble lying across the floor of the tunnel ahead of him. He lit his wand a little brighter. He wasn't to the Chamber yet, but it didn't seem like anyone had planned any ambushes.

With a little work, Harry found the gap Ron had cleared through the rubble seven years ago, though he didn't remember it being as big as it now was. As he easily climbed through the opening, he stopped to inspect the stone around him. The ceiling of the tunnel had been cracked and uneven when he'd last been there, but now it was smooth and solid. Looking down, he found that many of the rocks were newly broken and fresh scuffs could be seen in a thin layer of pulverized rock covering the rubble. Someone had blasted a larger gap in the rock and repaired the ceiling, and it looked as though it had been done fairly recently.

As he continued past the discarded skin of the basilisk, he looked down at the floor of the tunnel. In the years of dust, he was able to spot a few different tracks. Most of them were impossible to see, but in a few placed he was able to make out the clear shape of a small woman's shoe. Whatever might have happened, it looked as though Hermione had still been walking when she got down to the tunnel.

At last he reached a solid stone wall with the shape of a pair of entwined snakes carved upon it. He stopped for a moment and tried to prepare for whatever might be waiting for him on the other side. He dimmed his wand and gripped it a little tighter in his hand. Once he was ready, he cleared his throat and concentrated on the eyes of the snakes.

"_Open,_" he hissed.

The doors slid aside slowly, revealing a large shadowy chamber with the faintest hint of white light coming from some distance. No wizard or creature or sound or voice was waiting to welcome him as he passed through the doorway. The only other thing he could see in the Chamber was the scattered bones of the basilisk he'd killed there years ago. However, the basilisk wasn't what he was thinking about. He walked forward feeling a disconcerting shiver as the sight of the Chamber brought back vivid memories of a dream he'd never quite been able to forget.

Far ahead of him, he could see that the source of the light was coming from the very end of the Chamber. It was just like the dream he'd had the night Ginny claimed to see the hooded wizard in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Everything was the same except for one thing. _It can't be her,_ he told himself as his eyes searched for anything out of place. _It can't be Ginny. I sent her all the way across the castle._ Of course, that had been some time ago. He'd gone all the way to the Old Charms Tower and back. The Astronomy Tower wasn't that much further.

Harry tried to shake the thought from his mind. The message had been in Hermione's room. All the other victims had been Muggle-borns. No one had seen Hermione for some time. Everything fit, and yet, the similarity to his dream was uncanny. The dim, white light, the odd feeling, even the slight burning of his scar. What could it mean? Was there something he was supposed to understand? The dream replayed itself over and over in his head.

The repeated image of Ginny lying in a pool of blood spurred Harry into action. He began moving with a little more speed, but instead of walking down the center of the Chamber as he had in his dream, he moved off to one side, moving from pillar to pillar and hiding in the shadows.

The closer he got to the source of light, the faster his heart beat. The shadows melted away and the feet of the enormous statue of Salazar Slytherin came into view. Between them, Harry could see a faint, formless shape on the floor which seemed to be the focus of the light in the Chamber.

With only a few pillars left between him and the open area at the end, he was finally able to get a better look at it. As he'd feared, it was a girl. She was lying curled up on her side at the feet of the towering statue, facing away from Harry.

Harry moved forward again, stopping behind the very last pillar. From that position he was certain it could not be Ginny. The girl on the ground had dark hair. Was there supposed to be some meaning to this? Why had it been Ginny in his dream? Before he could think up any answers, he noticed another difference. Like his dream, the girl was wearing a simple white nightgown, but there was no pool of blood around her. Instead, it was dusty and stained with grime.

After pushing aside the elation of knowing Ginny was safe, he began to wonder who it really was. His first thought was that it must have been Hermione, and yet something didn't seem right. Though Harry couldn't see her clearly, something about her _felt_ familiar, but not in the way he thought Hermione would.

There was still no sign of anyone else in the Chamber. If he had been spotted, hiding behind a pillar for another minute would not change the situation at all. There was nothing else he could do. He'd been brought here for a reason. If someone had simply wanted to kill him, they could have done it in the Old Charms Tower, or the girls' bathroom, or at the exit of the pipe, or a hundred of other places.

With his wand held firmly, he stepped out from behind the pillar and began walking in a slow deliberate pace toward the body on the floor. She didn't look like Hermione. Her hair was darker. She wasn't young, but she wasn't much other than Harry, either. Perhaps she was just a seventh-year girl who had been taken without any of the professors noticing. As Harry walked up to her sprawled form, his eyes darted about the Chamber, looking for the shape of a hooded wizard or some other source of danger. There was nothing. The Chamber was empty.

Harry crouched down next to the girl. Her face was lying on the dusty stone floor and obscured by a tangled mess of straight, dark hair. He kept his wand ready as he slowly reached out to the girl's arm. Her skin was cold, but she wasn't dead. Harry could still feel a faint pulse on the inside of her wrist. He took a hold of her shoulder and gently turned her over. As he brushed aside her hair, her eyelids fluttered and suddenly blinked open revealing a pair of dark eyes staring up at him in wonder and relief.

"You?" he gasped as he stared down at her with an equal amount of surprise. "But how— I— What are you doing here?"

* * *

Ginny stumbled through the doorway to the third-floor girls' bathroom panting and weak. It took only a few seconds to see that Harry wasn't waiting there as she been praying he would be. She dropped to her knees and focused on holding onto whatever hope she could find. 

_Harry knows what he's doing,_ she told herself. _He wouldn't do anything completely foolish._ It wasn't as comforting as she wanted it to be. Harry was rarely foolish, but he did have a habit of doing some terribly risky things in the name of heroism. It wouldn't be the first time he'd run off to face some danger alone when he might have waited for help.

Whoever was behind all of this must have known that about Harry. Not only had he run off without any help, he hadn't told anyone what he was doing and he had convinced everyone who might have helped him to hide until it was all over. Mira said it was a trap and Harry had walked right into it.

He needed help and she was all he had. She pulled herself together and tried to think of what to do. She walked further into the bathroom and looked over at the bank of sinks. A chill ran down her spine. One of the sinks had disappeared completely, leaving only a large, gaping hole opening into darkness.

She could hardly believe what she was seeing. She hadn't imagined it would be that easy. She had assumed she would need to be a Parselmouth to open it. Now she was presented with a horrible decision. Did she follow him or return to the Great Hall and convince the Aurors to help her? If she went back, it might take quite some time to organize a group of wizards —if they would agree to leave at all. Of course, the longer it had been since Harry had gone down the hole, the less likely it was that Ginny would be able to provide much help on her own.

"What am I supposed to do?" she murmured aloud to the empty room. "How long have you been down there?"

"Not very long," answered a weak voice.

Ginny spun around, drawing her wand instinctively. Sitting in a dark corner was Moaning Myrtle. She stared Ginny behind an ethereal curtain of tangled hair.

"You saw Harry?" Ginny questioned the melancholy spirit. "He was here?"

"Yes," squeaked Myrtle. "He went down that nasty hole. I tried to tell him not to, but... he didn't listen to me."

"Did you see anyone else go down there?"

Myrtle nodded weakly. "A girl and... something else. I— I asked them what they were doing, and it—"

"The girl, what did she look like?" Ginny pressed her.

"Small, with dark hair," Myrtle whispered. "She left something by the sink."

Following Myrtle's vague directions, Ginny walked over to the closest sink to the large hole. Something small was hanging from the end of the faucet. It twisted in the dim moonlight, twinkling lightly. Ginny reached down and gently unwrapped the delicate golden chain from the metal fixture. Hanging loosely at the end of the chain was an elegant heart-shaped locket made of gold.

"She left _this_?" Ginny asked. "You're certain?"

She recognized it immediately. She'd seen it many times, though she'd never truly understood its purpose. It was the only beautiful thing that Evelyn Sibley owned.

"Yes. She... she stopped and put it right there," Myrtle whispered. "I don't know why. She wouldn't talk to me. The other one did all the speaking."

Fresh panic swept through Ginny's body. Why was Evelyn there? What was it supposed to mean? Was it another trick? The locket looked like a sign of some sort, but what was it supposed to mean?

Ginny stared down into the dark emptiness within the pipe. Perhaps she didn't need to decide what to do. Sitting on the edge of the hole and dangling her legs into the pipe, Ginny looked up at Moaning Myrtle and tried to speak with as much authority as she could.

"Myrtle, I need you to do something for me," she began. "I need you to go get help. Everyone is hiding, but you need to look for them. Tell whoever you find where we've gone and that we need help immediately. Can you do that?"

After a moment, Myrtle nodded faintly.

"Go on, then," commanded Ginny. Myrtle turned and floated through the wall separating the bathroom from the corridor. That was the best she could do. Looking down into the gaping entrance to the pipe, she hoped that the drop wasn't too long. Taking one last deep breath, she pushed herself off the ledge and let herself fall into the darkness.

* * *

"Hello, Harry," Evelyn greeted him with a scratchy voice. "You... you came for me." She smiled weakly as she tried to push herself up off the floor. After only a few inches she winced and fell back rubbing her temples with her hands. 

"Are you alright?" Harry said as he lunged forward to help her up.

She opened her eyes and let out a panicked shriek as she saw what she was wearing. With one hand propping her up, she tried in futility to tug the hem of her nightgown farther down her thighs. When she failed, she abruptly turned away from Harry, trying to hide a faint blush in her cheeks.

Harry simply ignored it and took one of her hands so he could try to pull her to her feet. She let him, and after a few unsteady moments she was standing in front of him looking mostly alert. She was still nervously tugging at her nightgown. Harry began taking off his cloak, but she just blushed again and refused.

In an attempt to make them both feel a little more comfortable, Harry turned his attention to the rest of the Chamber. There had to be something else, but he couldn't see it. "I thought you were going back to Romania," he said in a soft voice.

"I thought I had," she answered.

"Do you remember how you got down here?" he asked as he lit his wand to get a little more light.

"I... Where exactly is _down here_?"

"This is the Chamber of Secrets," Harry announced.

Evelyn let out a sharp gasp and lunged toward him. Huddling against him, she turned around and stared up at the statue of Slytherin in horror. "The Chamber of— But, the monster—"

"I killed it," Harry told her quickly, "seven years ago. Its skeleton is still lying across the entrance. You don't remember stepping over it?" Evelyn shook her head silently. "You don't know who brought you here? What is the last thing you _do_ remember?"

"I was in Romania, and..." she began, letting her voice trail off as she closed her eyes in concentration. "I had been looking about the castle at Orasul-de-sus. When I returned to my room at the inn, a man in a black cloak was waiting for me. He, er... he started saying something, and I... I knew he was taking me somewhere, but—" Evelyn shook her head and rubbed her eyes. "I can't remember anything else."

"Nothing else?" Harry asked as he continued searching the Chamber for something waiting to attack him. "The wizard in the cloak didn't tell you anything or make any threats?"

"No..."

"What about Hermione?" Harry suddenly remembered. "Did you see Hermione —or have any dreams about her?"

"Granger? Ginny's friend?" Evelyn responded softly. "No, I would think she'd be with Ginny."

"She isn't," he answered. "I was certain she was the one who had been taken here. Her or Ginny."

"Ginny?" Evelyn asked in a clearer voice. "But... Why would she be the one taken here? You said the monster was dead..."

"I had a dream," Harry replied slowly. "In my dream, it was Ginny lying on the floor. She was surrounded by blood but—" He stopped suddenly and stared at Evelyn. "She got up and told me to follow her."

Evelyn's expression became very serious. "Follow her where? Where did she lead you, Harry? Was it somewhere in here?"

"Yes," he hissed in excitement. He closed his eyes, trying to remember every detail. Ginny had been lying just where he found Evelyn, and then she had stood up and walked off. His eyes opened and he followed the path from his dream off into the darkness behind the pillars. With a gesture for Evelyn to stay back, he lit his wand and began tracing the path he'd taken in his dream.

However, when he reached the wall of the Chamber, he found nothing but damp stone. He searched back and forth, looking all along the wall for any sign of the arched entry he'd seen in his dream. There was nothing. Not even a single crack in the stone.

"You're absolutely certain it was right there?" Evelyn asked. Contrary to Harry's silent command she had followed him to the wall. Considering the situation, he decided he couldn't blame her.

"Yes," he replied in frustration as he struck the wall with his hand. The sound was firm and solid. There was no doorway. Harry paced back to where he'd found Evelyn and tried to think of what he was supposed to do. Why didn't anything make any sense? Why was he here? Was it all just a trick? Why did his scar suddenly hurt?

"We should go," he announced. "Something is happening. Ginny may be in danger."

"Ginny will be fine," Evelyn announced. Her voice was loud enough that it echoed faintly in the Chamber. Harry paused to look at her.

"How do you know that?"

"Ginny doesn't need you to protect her, Harry. She's got Josef," she replied. "She's one of them, you know."

"One of whom?"

"One of the Brotherhood of the Sacred Balance," she answered with a smile. "It's been nearly a month. You must have guessed it was possible. She doesn't trust you, anymore. She knows you're not telling her everything and she wants to know what it is." Evelyn pushed some hair away from her face. "You're right to keep it from her, though. She wouldn't understand."

"How do you know about the Brotherhood?" Harry asked, realizing that by asking her, he was admitting that he knew about it as well.

Evelyn glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. "Come now, Harry. You can't believe everything she tells you. I'm smarter than she understands. It's my job to find information other people are trying to hide."

Harry was about to ask her how she managed to find them when he was distracted by something even more unexplainable. Evelyn was casually running her hands over her dingy nightgown. Everywhere her hands passed, they turned the simple, stained and dusty fabric into gleaming white satin. When she was all finished, a satisfied smile spread across her face.

"That's much better, don't you think?"

Harry didn't know what to say. She hadn't even used a wand. "But... What— How did you do that?"

"Oh, I know how to do lots of things," she purred. "I spent my time at Hogwarts studying and practicing instead of batting my eyes and swooning at every boy who passed. You don't even remember me, do you? In six years you never once said a word to me. But then, I was never as pretty as Cho or Ginny."

Harry felt slightly odd at the mention of Ginny's name. A slight twinge in his forehead made him flinch, but it quickly disappeared in a fog as he remembered that Evelyn had been talking to him. "I, er... I'm sorry, I guess," he stammered.

"It's alright," she laughed. "That's just the way boys are. These things change as they get older. They start looking for something more than a pretty wrapper. I remember how you were at Hogwarts. You've changed, but so has Ginny. She's not the witch you think she is."

"She's had a hard year," he mumbled. "That changes a person."

"Yes, it does," Evelyn said with a nod. "You know, I can change too, Harry."

Evelyn reached up to cover her face with her hands. Slowly, she ran them up over her forehead and down her hair, taking any dirt and grime with them. As her hands continued down her shoulders, Harry realized that it had been even more than that. Her face wasn't simply clean, it was beautiful. The clear, white light glistened on her silken hair and made her skin glow like soft alabaster.

As they continued down, the changes were more subtle. The satiny nightgown shifted and swayed slightly as the form underneath it changed subtly. Her hips twisted sensuously as her hands passed over her stomach and slid down her thighs. The end result wasn't so much a transformation as a refinement. Where her nightgown had been hanging unceremoniously from her frame, there were now alluring hints of the body underneath it. Harry found that his throat had tightened and his mouth had gone dry.

"Is that all it would take?" she asked playfully. "Beauty is such a trivial thing though, isn't it? When compared to other things, I mean. It can be changed with the flick of a wand or the caress of a hand."

With a mischievous smirk, she ran her hands along her shoulders and down her chest, pressing her nightgown against her body. The lustrous fabric rippled and shimmered as they passed, leaving the gown clinging tightly to her figure. It continued to shine and sparkle as she walked toward him, looking more like she belonged in some book on ancient mythology than a dank chamber beneath the lake.

The tingle in Harry's scar melted away in a wave of heat that passed throughout his body. She was completely stunning. His eyes didn't seem capable of blinking or looking away. They just stared at her in reverent awe, leaving the rest of his body to fall away into a deep relaxation.

Evelyn's eyes flickered as her lips twitched into a smile. "See how easy it is?" she asked with a faint laugh. "But what about everything else? Is there a spell that can instill respect? Is there a potion to drink to inspire devotion? If there was, do you think _she_ would use it?"

Harry's eyes finally blinked. Ginny had always respected him, hadn't she? She had been infatuated with him for years. That required respect didn't it? Of course, it was a sort of blind, heedless respect, but that wasn't so different was it? Even if it wasn't, she had certainly been devoted. She had come looking for him, after all, and he'd seen how upset it made her when he hadn't returned after facing Voldemort. Wasn't that what devotion was?

"How loyal do you think she was during that year when you were gone?" Evelyn continued. "You saw her only rarely, and only away from her other friends. You already know about Michael Corner and Dean Thomas. She has never been shy around men, Harry. Do you still believe that she just sat in her room, pining for you the entire year? You think she faced her grief alone? When there would be so many other boys willing to do all manner of things to... comfort her? Think about it, Harry," she said as she walked closer. "What brought the two of you back together? Which of you made the first move?"

"Well, she was the one to—" Harry's voice trailed off as he tried to remember the day she had found out about him. She hadn't been following him. She had been following the wizard who had killed her brother. He had been the one to let her see him instead of just letting her wake up in her room at the inn. "I guess it was me," he admitted.

"And you're certain that she still wanted to be with you?" Evelyn pressed him. "You're certain that it's because of real affection and not the safety and wealth that you can provide her?"

"She told me she cares for me," he replied. Nothing seemed so certain anymore.

Evelyn's expression was filled with sympathy. "Words are easy to say, Harry. Any liar can spout professions of love and emotion. It is our actions which define us. What has she done to _show_ you how she feels for you? Why is it that you are so certain of something she has done nothing to prove?"

A whirlwind of thoughts filled Harry's mind. Ginny had proved her love for him, hadn't she? It was love, wasn't it? She had told him that she loved him, but had there been anything beyond the simple statements? What _had_ she done to prove it? His head swam as he tried to latch onto some sort of reason.

"She— I... trust her," he finally said.

"And do you trust her still?" Evelyn replied. "How closely have you been watching her? Have you seen how easily she lies to Ferdinand and Cordelia? Have you seen how calm she appeared while lying to her closest friends? She's even lied to her brothers and her parents." Evelyn's eyes narrowed in disgust. "She sat in front of Grigore and lied to his face, and yet you refuse to believe she could lie to you?"

Harry struggled to come up with a response.

"Have you never wondered what she does when you're away? Do you still think she sits alone in that old mansion, waiting for your return?" Harry gazed at her in confusion as she stood inches away from him, her eyes filled with pity. "You haven't, have you? You've never questioned what she does when she leaves late at night to meet with Josef? Do you wonder why they meet then? Or what they talk about? Or how many moans and screams of passion have escaped her throat only to be deadened by the strongest shield of Silencing Charms the Aurors could cast?"

Anger and jealousy flashed within Harry's stomach. His heart pounded in his chest as he tried to think of some explanation. "No... I—"

"I know her, Harry. I know her as she is now. Magic cannot fix her flaws." Evelyn's voice fell to a soft whisper as she stared into his eyes. "You may think that she loves you, but the truth is that she cannot love anyone. In her mind, she is still a little girl, hopelessly in love with an intoxicating fifth-year who spent a year talking to her through an enchanted diary. You are simply the closest thing she could find."

"No, that's not—"

"It _is_ true Harry," she cut him off. "She sought you out in an attempt to heal the emptiness in her spirit by filling it with the last remnant of the only man she will ever love. You sought her out to fill your own void: your desperate desire for a family. It doesn't have to be that way anymore, Harry. Let her go. Your friends will never turn away from you. I am everything she ever was to you, and many things she can never be. I know you feel it, too. This is the way it was meant to be."

Evelyn reached out and brushed her hand against Harry's cheek. He recoiled sharply, but she stood her ground. She simply kept her eyes locked on his, staring at him with the same look of gentle perseverance. As Harry relaxed, she brought her hand back to the side of his face, running her fingertips along his jaw line. His scar throbbed, making him wince, but he didn't pull away.

Gracefully, she let her fingers slip away and frowned in apology. "You will never need to be in pain again," she whispered. Slowly, she reached up with one hand and ran one of her fingers along his scar. A refreshingly cool sensation ran through his skin and his legs buckled beneath him. He hadn't realized just how much his scar had been hurting.

Evelyn was very close to him now, looking up at him with patient longing. He could feel her breath against his neck and the heat of her body pressing against his. The world was dissolving around them, washing away all his worries. His last concerns were pushed far away, becoming nothing more than a faint buzzing in the back of his mind.

He felt her hand on the back of his neck, pulling him gently but insistently down toward her. As their faces neared, the buzzing became a twinge, and the twinge had a name.

"But... Ginny..." he mumbled, almost forgetting his complaint before he was able to say it.

"I understand that it will be difficult," Evelyn whispered softly. "These things take time. Perhaps a touch of familiarity will make it easier."

The hand on his neck disappeared, but he made no attempt to move away. He watched in fascination as she brushed her hand across her nose and cheeks, leaving a light sprinkling of freckles.

"Just relax, Harry," she murmured. "Look into my eyes, and let it all go."

Harry stared down at her, lost in the brilliant emerald green of her eyes. As their lips met, all his thoughts were washed away in a torrent of oblivion. There was no more pain, no more worries, no more fear. It was just the two of them. He didn't need anyone else. There never had been anyone else.

And yet, he could still hear a voice echoing within his mind. It sounded angry and frightened at the same time. Though it was shrill and weak, it had somehow cut through the storm of forgetfulness. He thought he could almost recognize it. It cried out again, stronger, more insistent this time. It was only then that he realized it hadn't come from within his mind, but from inside the Chamber.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Now that's a proper cliffhanger. Two points for the first person who figures out where those screams are coming from. Luckily for everyone, Chapter 22 is not far off. Stay tuned.


	22. A Weapon Discarded

_This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

**CHAPTER 22**

**A Weapon Discarded**

* * *

Harry's mind tumbled about, struggling to either understand what was happening or let it all slip away. He couldn't quite remember where he was, but he knew that someone else was with him. He could feel the heat of their body and the softness of their lips against his. In the dim flashes of memory he received, he saw only the graceful outline of a young woman and a comforting pattern of freckles across pale skin. 

Someone was shouting nearby, but he no longer felt the need to pay any attention to it. The sound was slowly dwindling, as though it were coming from some great distance and being swept away by the wind. Opening his eyes briefly, he found a pair of bright green eyes staring back at him with startling intensity. They were captivating. Gradually, the echoes of far off shouts, the annoying buzz of unheeded warnings and the dull ache of his scar dissolved into nothing as he surrendered to the emptiness engulfing him.

Without warning, blinding agony shot through his chest. In an instant, his blissful oblivion was shattered and he struck the cold, damp floor with bone-jarring force. His body convulsed as waves of pain rippled through him. His joints ached and his head felt as though it were splitting open. Rolling onto his side and trying to stand, he felt a sharp, jabbing pain in his side. He collapsed onto the stone floor again, trying to breathe and keep himself from being sick.

When he finally opened his eyes, he saw two people standing nearby. The closest one he could barely recognize. Though she was facing away from him, she looked like the young woman from his memories. She was wearing a short nightgown of shimmering white satin stretched sensuously around the curves of her figure. The other was facing him, with eyes smoldering with fury and a mane of fiery hair framing a threatening expression.

_Ginny._

The name came to him through a fog of thoughts. As he continued to stare at her, memories materialized in his mind. He blinked his eyes and looked around at his surroundings. He was in the Chamber of Secrets. He'd meant to be there, but he couldn't quite remember why.

"Stay away from him!" Ginny shouted. Harry noticed that her wand was drawn and pointed directly at the other woman. The realization suddenly struck him.

"You... you attacked me," he croaked as he pressed his hand against his ribs. "Why did you—"

"I did it for your own good, Harry," she growled.

"You— How could it—" he stammered in disbelief. The fog in his mind was slowly melting away. He looked at Evelyn, then back at Ginny. "What happened?"

"She kissed you," Ginny spat.

"She did _what_?" Harry blinked his eyes and tried to concentrate. Wisps of shadowy memories drifted back to him.

"He kissed me, —_willingly,_" Evelyn declared.

Ginny's wand twitched and she took a step toward Evelyn. "No!" she cried. "You tricked him. You made him do it. Look at him! He can't even remember what he did!"

A cruel smile spread across Evelyn's face. "Of course he can," she said in a silky voice. As she turned to stare at Harry, her eyes flickered with a green light. With a flash, memories began to flood back to him. He remembered her smile, the gentle sympathy in her voice, the patient way she had declared her devotion to him, and the soft warmth of her lips.

"Stop that!" Ginny commanded. She jabbed her wand at Evelyn and Harry saw a burst of sparks showering off Evelyn's nightgown. She stumbled backward a step but seemed to be otherwise unhurt. However, it hadn't gone unnoticed. Evelyn glared back at Ginny with murderous rage. Her arm lashed out and Harry watched in shock as Ginny was tossed backward.

He tried to run to her, but his balance still hadn't returned to him and he stumbled after the first few steps. Evelyn threw a sharp look at him before stalking over toward Ginny as she struggled to get back on her feet. With a flick of her wrist, Evelyn slammed Ginny back down against the stone floor.

"I've had enough of you," she snarled. "There are thousands of people in the world who go through their lives wanting everything they see. But you... You've actually convinced yourself that you _deserve_ all of it."

Harry pushed himself up onto shaky legs. His head still throbbed and his whole body felt as though it had been battered by a pair of trolls, but it wasn't anything he hadn't faced before. Evelyn wasn't acting like herself. Something was wrong and he needed to figure out what it was.

"You came here looking for Harry, and now you've found him," she continued. "As you can see, he doesn't want you anymore. Whatever hold you thought you had on him is broken. He's found someone who knows how to respect and appreciate him."

"You stay away from him!" Ginny shouted.

Evelyn's hand lashed out with an angry hiss, followed a moment later by a short scream of pain which echoed through the Chamber. Harry stumbled forward and tried calling out with a hoarse voice, but neither of the women heard him. Ahead of him, Ginny had raised her arms up to shield her face as Evelyn stood over her.

"Look at you," she sneered. "You can't even fight for him. You only want him for his money and his fame and your perverse desire to claim that you deserve both for the tortured life you've lived. He's nothing to you, and now you're nothing to him."

"That's a lie!" screamed Ginny. "We love each other!"

"You don't even know what love is!" Evelyn yelled back at Ginny. "I know you, Ginevra. I know your kind. You all think you're special, but you're all the same. The only thing you've ever loved is yourself. Well, let's see how many people you charm when I take your beauty away from you." Evelyn thrusted her hands outward and Ginny let out a panicked shriek while her arms were pulled to either side as if bound by invisible chains. Filled with fear, her eyes flitted back and forth between Evelyn and Harry.

"No. Don't—" Harry protested, but his voice was weak and quickly swallowed by the darkness.

Evelyn didn't even turn around. "This doesn't concern you, Harry. She's earned this many times over. Who knows what other crimes this tramp is guilty of? I don't blame you for what you did, but in this case the world would have been a better place if you had simply let her rot the first time she came down here. At the very least, the floor wouldn't have been defiled by her a second time."

Evelyn flicked her fingers lightly and Ginny let out a gasp of pain. Harry tried calling out, but Evelyn's voice rose over his.

"It's a small price to pay for everything she has done: all the lies, the manipulation, the _arrogance_ and the continuous, insulting portrayal of herself as some innocent little girl. I know far too well how she fooled everyone else. How she fooled you, I may never understand. Luckily, I don't need to understand it to make her pay for it."

Evelyn swiped a finger through the air between her and Ginny. This time, Harry was close enough to see a thin crimson line slice along Ginny's jaw. She let out another gasp of pain and stared up at Harry as droplets of blood began to form along the cut.

"_Enough,_" Harry growled at he raised his wand.

Evelyn still didn't turn to look at him. "I don't think so," she replied coldly. "No amount of blood can pay for what she's done. She needs to know the pain she has caused." She flicked another finger, this time opening a cut across Ginny's temple.

With a burst of hot rage, Harry realized what she was doing. She was using the Sectumsempra curse, non-verbally and without a wand. Just as she was opening her hand to cast it again, Harry pointed his wand at her back and concentrated all his anger at once.

Without a sound, a burst of orange light erupted from the end of his wand and slammed into Evelyn's back, releasing a cloud of oily, black smoke and making her stumble forward. After seeing the results of Ginny's attempts, he found himself shocked that he'd actually managed to do anything more than get her attention.

Suddenly, he found two points of green light peering back at him through the dissipating fog. Seconds later, Evelyn strode out of the cloud with an expression of icy rage.

"You shouldn't have done that, Harry," she said threateningly.

"I'll do it again if you don't stop hurting her."

With Evelyn's attention focused entirely on Harry, Ginny was able to move again. From the corner of his eye, he saw her roll onto her side and reach for her wand. The moment she took a hold of it, Evelyn twisted around, jabbing her empty hand in Ginny's direction. Ginny screamed in pain, dropping her wand immediately. With another flick of her fingers, the wand jumped off the floor and into Evelyn's palm.

Before Harry could react, she had spun around to face him, pointing Ginny's wand directly at his chest. Her eyes blazed with malevolent green light. "Drop your wand, Harry," she ordered him. "You cannot fight me."

Harry tried to act as quickly as he could. However, the instant it took him to aim his wand wasn't quickly enough. Before he could even try to stun her, her free hand lashed out. It felt like being hit by a dozen Bludgers at once. He found himself sprawled on the floor again. Gasping for air, he opened his eyes and found Evelyn tossing his wand behind her. It tumbled through the air before striking the ground and rolling to a stop between the statue's enormous feet.

"It didn't have to be this way, Harry," she said stiffly. "It never should have come to this. There was a path. All we had to do was follow it."

As she stared down at him, Harry spotted something he hadn't noticed before. She was wearing something around her neck. She had been standing only inches away from him. How had he missed it before?

He had first noticed the small silver chain as it curled around her neck, and even now he couldn't quite make out just what was hanging from it. It looked to be roughly triangular in shape, though it was difficult to be certain. It appeared to be glowing with the same pale green of Evelyn's eyes, but it cast no shadows and spread no light. It was almost as though he was trying to look at something without his glasses. The more he looked at it, the harder it was to see. Whatever it was, he was certain it was the cause of her strange behavior now.

Evelyn seemed oblivious to his inspection. "I suppose it's never that simple, is it?" Her eyes narrowed and her lips pulled back in disgust. "Something always gets in the way." Her head twisted to glare at Ginny.

With a few quick strides, she walked over to Ginny's side and crouched down next to her. Her hand shot out, clamped tightly around Ginny's neck and jerked her onto her feet. One of Ginny's hands was held limply against her chest. With the other, she tried in vain to pry open Evelyn's grip. Still gasping for breath, she was led back toward the giant statue of Salazar Slytherin standing against the wall.

"Fate is a funny thing, isn't it?" asked Evelyn. "Have you ever thought about the past, Harry? Have you ever looked at the events which shaped it and wondered why that particular combination occurred? Do you suppose that there is some reason behind it?"

"We all make our own futures," he said.

"I thought that once. It's a lie. Our futures are made for us. Situation and circumstance do more to direct our path than any of our feeble attempts. Face it, Harry. Your life was laid out for you long before you had a chance to even think about trying to change it."

"I don't believe that—"

"Open your eyes, Harry," she interrupted. "Our lives are shaped by events beyond our control or comprehension." With her free hand she held up a few locks of Ginny's hair and looked at it with mild annoyance. "You know, my mother has red hair. All the witches in my family do. Even my older sister. I should have had it as well."

She let go of Ginny's hair and glared at Harry. "Is it my fault that I don't? Is it my fault that I was two years too old? Am I to blame for having that stupid hat put me in Ravenclaw instead of Gryffindor? You and I _belong_ together, but fate has stolen that from me and given you to _her_ instead." She threw a disgusted scowl at Ginny.

"You could have so many other wizards," she growled, "but that wasn't enough. You needed Harry as some sort of trophy." She turned to look into Ginny's eyes.

"You can put an end to all of this, Ginevra. All you have to do is give him up. You can have Josef," she suggested. "Soon he will be the Minister of Romania and have the entire Brotherhood following him. There are vaults of gold that Harry still doesn't know about. He'll have far more wealth and power than even Harry. I'm sure he wouldn't mind a little damage," she purred as she ran her finger across the cut along Ginny's jaw.

"Let her go," Harry demanded as he stumbled toward the pair of them.

"Stay back, Harry," Evelyn snapped. "This is between Ginevra and me." She leaned close to Ginny's ear and began speaking in a slow, deliberately calm voice. "It's all up to you now, Ginevra. This doesn't have to end in tragedy. It's very simple. Promise that you'll stay away from Harry and we can all walk out of here."

For an instant, Evelyn loosened her grip on Ginny's neck. Ginny didn't hesitate to respond.

"Never," she answered hoarsely.

Evelyn's response was equally immediate. Evelyn clamped down on Ginny's throat again, muffling her protests. She turned her narrowed eyes on Harry, making a similar demand.

"It's down to you then, Harry," she announced ominously. "It's time for you to make your decision. Have you finally learned enough to see her for what she really is, or will the last message she wrote seven years ago finally come true? You can save her, Harry. Just say you don't want her."

Harry wasn't sure what to do. He knew Evelyn wasn't herself. There was little doubt in his mind that she could end Ginny's life before Harry could think of a way of stopping her. At the same time, Ginny was shaking her head, gasping for air and silently begging him not to agree.

"Who are you?" Harry asked, hoping to give himself more time to think.

"Come now, Harry. You really must pay more attention," she answered in a patronizing tone. "We've met before. I'm Evelyn."

"No, you're not," he replied immediately. "You're controlling her. You're using her."

Her lips tightened as she glared at him. "No one is using me. I assure you that I am Evelyn Sibley. If you don't recognize me, you need to open your eyes. I am not the weak, talentless witch Ginevra might have told you about. I am strong and I guarantee you, I am in full control of my actions."

"What about Cirillo Presagio?" Harry questioned. "Was he in control of his actions as well? Did he choose to kill himself? Is that what he wanted?"

A lopsided smile spread across Evelyn's face. "It is precisely what he wanted," she answered, "though I must admit it wasn't what he got."

Harry cocked his head and inched closer to where Evelyn was holding Ginny. "I saw it with my own eyes. He's dead."

"No," she answered, "but neither is he alive. You refused to kill him and so death was stolen from him. It is a fate that many might naively wish for, but I believe his fear of it was almost overwhelming. It's a pity you refused to grant him his only chance for peace. You see Harry? All of our actions have consequences," she called out in a louder voice. "Sometimes death is the most precious gift you can give. Ginny understands that now too, don't you?"

Harry watched in confusion as a single tear rolled down Ginny's reddening face and his stomach tightened. It was obvious something else had happened. A dozen possibilities jumped into his mind, but he forced them all out. He needed to focus on separating Ginny and Evelyn. Without a wand, he was no match for her magically, but if he could keep Evelyn distracted, he might be able to get close enough to attack her physically. He had spent the last year running from the Brotherhood and she had spent the last three sitting behind a desk in the Ministry. It was a risk, but there didn't seem to be any other option.

"Looking for a way out, Harry?" Evelyn asked as though she had read his thoughts. "Yes, you're good at that aren't you? Slipping away from difficult situations? Finding a way past every trap? It won't happen this time. You cannot stop me. You cannot escape me. You cannot win, Harry. I cannot be defeated."

"Everyone is defeated in the end," Harry replied defiantly.

The light in Evelyn's eyes brightened. "For me, there will be no end."

Harry forced himself to laugh loudly. "You sound pretty confident for someone who makes everyone else do their work for them. You'll need to do better than that if you expect me to fear you. If you are so unstoppable, why hide behind eleven-year-old girls and mediocre Quidditch players?"

"Because it amuses me," Evelyn growled with surprising ferocity.

Harry wasn't far from her now. He could see tiny wisps of black vapor curling around her feet and dissipating across the damp stone. Something had been off about her reaction to his last question. She'd been lying. She had needed all of those people. Perhaps she had less control over her power than she thought she did.

"Why students, then?" he asked. "Why not professors? Think of the trouble you could have caused."

"Enough. You have wasted far too much time already, Harry," Evelyn announced. "It's time for you to make a decision. Ginevra is getting weak and I think you'll be more motivated if she's still alive." She stared into Harry's eyes and slowly lifted Ginny into the air by her neck.

"Which will it be, Harry? Would you rather have a long life of wealth, power and loyalty, or will you choose to live out the few remaining years of your life with the knowledge that you murdered Ginevra with your actions?"

Harry took another step toward her. "I won't play your games!" he shouted.

Evelyn's eyes flashed with rage. With a swift movement of her arm, Ginny was thrown down onto the floor. Harry began running toward her, but quickly found himself tossed backward yet again. He scrambled to his feet, but it was too late. Evelyn's arms were stretched out to either side of her and Harry could feel a low rumbling in the floor. The sound of grinding stone echoed through the chamber, ending suddenly as the rock underneath Evelyn and Ginny tore itself free and began rising up toward the ceiling.

Harry looked up at the platform of stone, hovering over forty feet above him. Evelyn was standing near the edge, staring down at him with blazing green eyes. "Is this what it takes, Harry?" she shouted down. "Is this a situation you can finally understand?" For an instant, his eyes flitted over to where his wand lay against the wall.

Evelyn let out a sharp laugh. "Yes, Harry," she called out, "that is one solution. You could try to retrieve your wand. Of course, if you take so much as a single step toward it, I will drop her." With a single fluid motion, Evelyn crouched down and hauled Ginny to her feet by the neck once more. Evelyn held her at the very edge of the stone platform, so she was forced to struggle to keep her feet from swinging out over the side.

"You are an amazing wizard, Harry," she called out, "but not that amazing. You would never reach your wand in time to save your precious Ginny. If you were lucky, she might not have time to tell you how much pain she was in before she died." Ginny let out a strangled scream as Evelyn pushed her a little further away, forcing one of her feet to slip off the edge.

Harry ran forward, but stopped himself as soon as Ginny's second foot lost its grip. As she helplessly kicked her legs high above the floor of the Chamber, Harry held up his arms in defeat and began stepping back to where he had been standing. Evelyn slowly pulled Ginny back toward the edge, allowing her feet to step back onto the rock.

"What do you want?" Harry asked.

"You, Harry," she shouted. "You are all I've ever wanted. You're all I've ever asked for. I've tried to make it as easy for you as I can, but I think you've lived with too much conflict in your life. You just can't accept simple things. You need them to be difficult. So, as proof that I'm willing to compromise, I will do what I can to accommodate you."

"You can come down here and let her go!" Harry shouted. "I'm not going to bargain with you. Not while you're threatening her."

"This isn't a _bargain_, Harry," Evelyn laughed. "I don't ask for anything in payment. I am _giving_ you a choice. You can either promise yourself to me for as long as we live, or I will take Ginevra's life."

"No!" yelled Harry. "I refuse. I'm not going to play this game."

"Oh, but you are," she replied smoothly. "That is simply your third choice: To stand there and refuse to make any decision. This stone will not hold us for long, and I'll admit that I haven't taken the time to figure out how to levitate myself, yet. If you do not come to the obvious conclusion soon, the stone will crumble away beneath us and we will both drop. Without your wand, I don't think you'll be able to do much more than watch us fall to our deaths."

Harry fumed as he tried to think his way through the problem. There had to be some way. There must be some other option he hadn't thought of yet. If only he had his wand. With it, he might have been able to force Evelyn to act. Instead, he was forced to sit and wait for something to happen. Evelyn had to know he'd never pick either of the options she presented to him. She must have wanted him to wait. There was something more. This was part of some plan.

"What is this really about, Evelyn?" he shouted up to her. "I know it's not Ginny."

"No, Harry, it's all about Ginny!" she yelled back, her voice filled with bitterness.

"I think you're lying," he replied, hoping it wouldn't provoke any further violence. "She hasn't done anything to you."

"You can't even begin to understand the pain she's caused me!"

As her voice echoed through the Chamber, a large chunk of stone broke away from the platform Evelyn and Ginny were standing on and fell silently toward the floor. After a few short seconds, it struck the edge of the crater it had been torn from, bursting into a dozen large chunks and confirming Harry's guess of what might happen to Ginny if she were to fall.

"You don't know what I've gone through!" Evelyn screamed. "You cannot imagine the magnitude of her crimes. You don't know her, Harry! You don't know what she's capable of! If you knew, you would be begging me to kill her for you!"

Evelyn threw her down, and Harry flinched, fearing the worst. However, Ginny landed hard on the platform, sending another chunk of stone plummeting back to the floor. Evelyn grabbed Ginny's head and forced her to look down at Harry.

"Tell him!" she screamed. "Tell him what you're going to do!"

Ginny's voice drifted down to him, weak and broken: "Don't... don't listen to—"

The rest of her statement was cut off as Evelyn clamped her hand around her throat again. "_Shut up!_" she howled. "How dare you keep trying to deceive him!" She held her free hand inches from Ginny's face as pale green light began to swirl about it. Icy panic gripped Harry as he tried to think of something to do. Maybe Evelyn wouldn't notice if he went for his wand. Before he could act, he heard Evelyn shout in some incoherent language. Looking up, he saw the light disappear as though snuffed like a candle. A second later, the two points of green light which had marked her eyes disappeared as well and she collapsed onto the stone platform, sending a shower of small chunks of stone down onto the floor. Sensing his chance, Harry dashed toward his wand.

"_Stop!_" Evelyn commanded from high above him.

Harry froze immediately and turned his face toward the ceiling. She was standing again. As she stared down at him, he saw the faint green light returning to her eyes. "Stop this, Evelyn," Harry shouted, sensing that something important had changed. "Whatever you're trying to do, this isn't the way."

"This is the only way!" she replied. "You never would have listened to me while _she_ was manipulating you. I knew you had to see her how she really is. If that's not possible..."

Harry felt his scar begin to burn. He knew he needed to think of something soon. "You're not yourself!" he cried. "This power isn't natural. It's too much. It has corrupted you."

For a moment, the light in her eyes dimmed. "No," she answered. "It has given me the chance to set things right —to make the world the way it should have always been. It may be too much for me, but together we can control it."

"No," he shouted. "It's already controlling you, Evelyn. You have to stop this."

Nearly half the platform cracked apart and fell free, leaving Evelyn and Ginny barely enough surface to stand on. The resulting impact shook the very floor. As the echoes faded, Evelyn's voice cut through them.

"It's too late, Harry. There is no stopping it."

"You're wrong! There's always a way," he shouted, feeling panic stabbing at him again as the stone under Ginny's feet cracked and sent small pebbles falling.

Evelyn's gaze was steadfast. "There is only one way. Make your choice Harry. Promise yourself to me or Ginny will die."

More of the platform was cracking and falling away. Harry's mind raced. There had to be some other way. Just as he was about to call out to try and stall her, he heard a strange, new noise echoing through the Chamber. At first it was soft and difficult to hear, but a moment later, it echoed louder in his head, speaking words which had been haunting him for a year:

_Not with the blood of a thousand nations_  
_Nor the fires of ten thousand cities_  
_Will the pain of eternity be cured_  
_Or the hunger of agony be satisfied._

Out of instinct, Harry covered his ears, trying to somehow block the words he had long ago memorized. When they suddenly stopped, he looked up at Evelyn and watched as the green glow in her eyes faded and disappeared. The realization of what was coming next struck him like an icy wave.

The last bit of the platform cracked in half, Evelyn's footing failed and she slid off the crumbling stone, taking Ginny with her. Without thinking, Harry bolted forward. He didn't know what he was going to do, but he had to try something.

Ginny plummeted through the air at a horrific rate. Harry had barely covered half the distance before Ginny had fallen halfway to the ground. There was no time to get his wand. There was no time for anything. There was no hope at all.

Ginny's bloody face was frozen in an expression of paralyzed terror as she fell. She was falling too fast. He knew he could never reach her. He reached out to her, hoping beyond all reason that something would save her. Her eyes locked onto his and the world seemed to slow to a crawl around Harry. For an instant he was able to see everything: the look of bewildered fear on Evelyn's face, Ginny's expression of solemn resignation and the explosion of rock as the last of the chunks broke against the floor beneath them.

Harry felt himself shaking, though he didn't know if it was out of fear or fury. As Ginny neared the rock floor, he wanted to look away. He didn't want to remember her like that. He was close enough now to see that Ginny's eyes weren't filled with fear or anger, but pity and forgiveness. She knew what was going to happen, and they both knew that it was his fault.

_It wasn't supposed to happen like this,_ Harry thought as a swell of anger filled his chest. _There was nothing I could have done!_ his mind shouted. _She wasn't supposed to die. She can't die! Not like this!_ As his fury rose up to choke him, he felt himself stumble and the world faded around him. The last thing he remembered was the sickening sound of bones breaking against stone and tortured screams slowly fading into silence.

* * *

Flickering golden light crept into Harry's eyes, pulling him back toward consciousness. His sight was hazy and his hearing muffled, but he knew he was lying on his back. Struggling against sore, exhausted muscles, he raised his head and tried looking around him. Something had happened. He was surrounded by an oddly thick, white fog which hung like a curtain around him and flickered with the unmistakable light of a dozen or more flames. The Chamber was on fire. 

He tried to get up, but the floor seemed to fight back, absorbing all his efforts to push himself off it. With a great push, he sat up. His head swam and the room spun and tilted around him until he collapsed back with a groan. The impact brought back a flood of horrible memories of glowing eyes and falling figures. His stomach clenched painfully and he thought of only one thing: _Ginny._ He needed to find her. He couldn't let her body burn.

He pushed himself up a second time. Before he could make another attempt at standing, the fog around him parted to his left and a dark shape ringed with the glow of flames stepped through, letting the fog close behind it. Harry recoiled, instinctively reaching for his wand and finding his pocket empty. He'd lost his wand. It was by the wall, but which direction was that?

The shape reached for him and Harry jumped away, grimacing in fury. To his surprise, the shape jumped back as well. Only then did he notice that the orange halo around figure standing next to him was actually a tangled mess of red hair.

"Ginny?" Harry gasped. "But how—"

"As much fun as it might be to prank you right now, I'm pretty certain it would end with you trying to kiss me," Ron replied quietly.

"Ron— How did— Where am I?"

"The Hospital Wing, mate," Ron said and he clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Figured you wouldn't need these to recognize it." Harry squinted down and found Ron handing him his glasses.

The curtains opened a second time. Though his glasses helped quite a bit, his vision was still a little blurry and he was unable to recognize his new visitor until he spoke.

"How is he?" Lupin whispered.

"Well, he's awake," answered Ron. "Seems a bit disoriented, but he moved quick enough when he thought I was here to attack him."

"Yes, well maybe you shouldn't have startled him. Until we figure out what happened, Poppy doesn't want him moving at all."

As Lupin closed the curtains behind him, Harry could hear other voices murmuring in the room. They had been waiting for him to wake up. What had Lupin meant? How much didn't they know?

"How did I get here?" he asked quietly.

Ron scratched his head and sat down in a chair next to Harry's bed. "Er... Harry—" he began reluctantly. "We can talk about that later. How much do you remember about what happened?"

Harry's stomach tightened again and for a moment he felt certain he was going to be sick. Hot tears welled up in his eyes as he stared into Ron's face. "I— I tried... I thought— I—" he stammered. "I don't know what to say. I'm sorry, I—"

"What is it, Harry?" Ron asked with a bewildered expression.

Waves of guilt washed over Harry. Ron didn't know. They must not have told him. "I tried to protect her. I... should have just agreed to it. I never thought—" Ron's confusion was deepening, but Harry couldn't make himself say the words he knew he needed to say. "There's something... something I need to tell you... about Ginny."

"That's nice, Harry, but unless you want everyone to know, you'd best wait a bit," Ron replied.

"It's my fault," Harry said in a louder voice. Ron held his finger to his lips, urging Harry to be quiet. "I could have stopped it, but I—"

"Well, she got what she deserved then, didn't she?" Ron hissed. That had been the last thing Harry expected. He stared back at Ron with a look of shocked disbelief.

"How... can you say—"

"Well, she broke your leg in Fred and George's shop," interrupted Ron. "And you said there was a time in Egypt when she rammed her shoulder into your stomach."

Harry's grief and confusion boiled into anger. "And that makes it okay for me to kill her?"

"_Quiet,_" Ron scolded him before answering in a harsh whisper. "No, not to kill her, of course, though after what she did, I think Tonks might have been willing to help you. I'm just trying to say that you're even now. Let her get some rest and you can apologize later."

"—and I can—" choked Harry, "—You mean she's—"

Ignoring Lupin's earlier comment, Harry jumped out of his bed and shoved Ron aside. He burst through the curtains to find a dozen or more witches and wizards standing around the room talking in hushed voices. They all stopped to stare at him.

"Where is she?" he asked Lupin who was standing only a few feet away. "Where is Ginny? What happened to her?"

"She's alright, Harry. She's sleeping," he whispered, "and you're not supposed to leave your bed."

Harry ignored his old professor. Professor Stanton, the Potions professor was standing in the middle of a clump of professors and Aurors. Behind them, curtains had been drawn around another bed. Harry strode across the room and ripped open the curtains.

Ginny was lying motionless on the bed. Her right leg was wrapped tightly with bandages. Both of her arms were bandaged as well, one of them slightly more than the other. As if to confirm that his memories weren't some dream, a collection of pale pink scars stretched across her face. The two largest were across her right temple and along the left side of her jaw. More importantly, her chest was rising and falling slowly.

Any other time and he might have been shocked by what he saw, but he was so relieved to see her alive that he wouldn't have cared if her whole body had been covered in bandages. Before he really knew what he was doing, he was at her side and pulling her into a tight hug.

"H-Harry," Ginny mumbled groggily as her arms wrapped around him. "You're alright. I thought you— I don't know what happened..."

Harry held her face in his hands and stared into her eyes. "You're barely hurt. How— I watched you fall."

"I don't know, Harry," she whispered. "I remember hitting the floor, but... it wasn't stone. It just... sank under me. It hurt, and... I felt my leg break, but— It was actually like that Softening Charm you used on the ground outside the twin's shop... but you didn't have your wand. How could— It must have been..."

As though the thought occurred to both of them at once, they pulled away and stared at each other. Ginny glanced down at her leg, then back at Harry. "I— The fall, it... it didn't kill me. Maybe she—"

Harry didn't let her finish the sentence. "How did we get here?" he shouted at the other occupants of the room. "We were in the Chamber of Secrets. How did we get here?"

Lupin was the first to step forward. "Harry, you need to relax," he said, trying to calm him. "Someone found you. The entrance to the Chamber. It was still open. They found you and brought both of you back here."

New fear flowed through Harry's veins. "Who was it?"

"Harry, you really need to calm down," replied Lupin. "If you promise to sit down and relax we can discuss it."

"Was it Evelyn?" he asked with startling urgency. "Was it Evelyn Sibley?"

"What? No..."

"There was another witch with us in the Chamber," he announced. "Her name is Evelyn Sibley. She has dark hair and she was wearing a— a white nightgown." Ron perked up at this news, but didn't say anything. "Has anyone seen her? Where is she?"

"Miss Sibley is seriously injured, Mr. Potter," Professor Stanton began explaining. "Poppy has been looking after her since she was rescued."

"She's here?"

"No, she's in one of the dungeons. Valencia was adamant about it. She said that Miss Sibley needed to be kept separate. I believe she thought she was in some sort of danger. "

"Valencia?" he repeated. "Valencia Desmoda? But what does she—"

"She's the one who found you, Harry," Lupin told him. "She went down into the Chamber and found the three of you lying unconscious. It looked as though there had been some sort of explosion. You seemed to have the least injuries, and Miss Sibley has the worst. Ginny only has a broken leg and some bad deep cuts. We treated them while Poppy worked on Miss Sibley."

"How long ago was that?"

"Er, I don't really know... Maybe three hours or more."

"I need my wand and a few Aurors," Harry demanded. Within seconds, Ron had pulled a wand from his pocket and offered it to Harry. Four Aurors stepped forward as well, including Tonks and Simon. Lupin tried to complain, but Harry simply ignored him. Even Ginny was trying to stand up. When Ron ran over to her side, Harry expected him to tell her to lie down. Instead, he pulled his wand and began helping Ginny cut the bandages from her leg and arms.

"Those have just healed," warned Professor Stanton. "They're going to be a bit tender."

Ginny didn't even pause. Once the bandages were off her leg, she cautiously bent it a few times before trying to stand up. She was a little wobbly at first, but she hobbled over to Harry's side as she continued working on the bandages. She finally pulled off the thick wrappings around her right hand, revealing a number of dark bruises. With little more than a wince, she wrapped her hand around her wand and stood ready to follow Harry.

His eyes traveled over to the far end of the hall where the entryway to the room where he'd found Mira was completely dark. Ginny seemed to understand his question before he asked it. She frowned and shook her head slowly.

"What about the two girls who were attacked?" he asked Ron as he looked about the room for any other sets of curtains.

Ron's answer was barely audible. "They were able to restore the Emese girl, but the other one..."

"Has there been any sign of Hermione?"

"She'd run off to fetch help," Ron answered. "She came back a while ago. When she heard what happened, she said she needed to talk to Valencia."

"What about you?"

"I'm fine," Ron replied stiffly. "I woke up hours ago. When Hermione left, she told me to find you and tell you that everyone was in danger. I didn't see who did it... but I know it was a witch." Harry could tell by the look in his eyes that Ron had already guessed who had done it.

With an understanding nod, Harry walked back to his bed, slipped his feet into his boots and began strapping them up. Ginny found his cloak and handed it to him when he was done.

"Where are we going?" asked one of the Aurors.

"To visit Evelyn Sibley," Harry answered stonily.

"Miss Sibley is in no danger," Lupin tried to assure him. "The Headmistress, Valencia, and four Aurors are watching over her. She's perfectly safe."

"I'm not worried about Evelyn," Harry called back as he began walking toward the door. "She's been behind all of it. She was the one who made the Keeper attack all those people at Cornwall. She attacked those four girls and somehow I know she's responsible for Mira Franklin's death. She might have even attacked Marius Lipton. Who knows how many other people are dead because of her?"

Lupin simply stared back at him in shock. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to make sure she doesn't murder anyone else."

* * *

Tonks and Simon led the way, followed by Harry and Ron, then Ginny, and finally the last pair of Aurors. Though Harry had no official authority or reason to handle such matters, none of the Aurors questioned him. As they walked, Harry tried to give some sort of simple explanation for what had happened in the Chamber. 

When he was finished, they filled him in on what had happened afterward. Valencia claimed that she had gone back to search for missing students when Moaning Myrtle had found her. She had brought Evelyn up first, but refused to bring her to the Hospital Wing, insisting instead that she be put in her own room far from everyone else. No one understood why and she offered no explanations, but at the time, it simply wasn't a great worry. When they saw her injuries, they had assumed there had been some sort of explosion. Harry and Ginny's conditions seemed to confirm that idea. However, with all of them unconscious, all anyone could do was sit and wait. Now that they'd heard Harry's story, they understood Valencia's fears, even if that left the question of how she'd known unanswered.

Torches flared to life ahead of them as they came to the bottom of a long staircase and began walking along the long corridor that led to where Evelyn had been taken. He knew the Aurors didn't believe his warning about hexes having no affect on Evelyn, but he eventually convinced them that the situation was more complex than he had time to explain. If Evelyn was still there, even four Aurors wouldn't be able to stop her with wands alone.

The extent of her injuries was a bit of a mystery considering how lucky Ginny had been. However, it did prove that she wasn't unstoppable. Magic might not work, but there were other ways. Trying to push the pain of old memories from his head, he told everyone that if Evelyn should make any aggressive move, they were to aim for the ceiling and bring it down on top of her. Ginny accepted this order with silent resolve. Ron didn't react at all.

Tonks whispered a warning that they were approaching the short corridor that would take them to Evelyn's room. Harry ordered them all to wait and let him walk ahead of them. Clutching his wand tightly, he stepped around the corner with his wand already ready to curse whoever might be waiting for him. A dark silhouette halfway stepped into the middle of the passage where the flickering torchlight illuminated their face.

It was Hermione. Harry walked forward warily, searching the doors he passed for any sign of danger. "Is Evelyn still here?" he asked sharply.

Hermione's reply was equally tense: "Yes."

"I need you to walk into the room and get everyone to leave immediately —everyone but Evelyn."

"No."

Harry froze and glared at Hermione. Behind him, everyone else was filing into the narrow corridor. "I'm serious, Hermione. Find some excuse to get them all out of there. They don't know the danger they're in."

"No, Harry," she repeated defiantly. To reinforce her point, she planted her feet and crossed her arms.

"Hermione," he began, "I'm not asking you for a favor. Stand aside. You don't know what you're doing." Without waiting for a response, Harry walked forward, attempting to step around her. She shifted to meet him and shoved him backward with her free hand.

"I'm not going to let you do it, Harry!" she shouted.

"You're not thinking straight. You don't know what you're protecting."

He reached out to push her out of his way, but she was already twisting away from him. With startling speed, her left hand slammed against his shoulder, catching him unprepared and shoving him against the wall.

"I'm trying to protect _you_," she snarled. "_You_ are the one who doesn't know who's behind that door. If you go in there and do what you want to do, you'll spend the rest of your life in Azkaban, and that's exactly what it wants."

"There's no other way, Hermione. If we don't do it now, we may never get another chance. You have no idea how dangerous she is." Harry raised his arm to try and push her away.

Hermione dodged again, catching his wrist with a gloved hand and twisting it so Harry couldn't fight her. "She's no more dangerous to you than I am," she said pointedly. Harry paused as he looked down at Hermione's hand. He remembered the growing dark patch on her arm. He looked into her eyes and understood what she had meant. "It abandoned her," she whispered. "You have nothing to fear from her. If anyone has a reason to be afraid, it's Evelyn Sibley."

Flanked by Ginny and Hermione, Harry walked into the small room. At one end of the room was an ornate bed which looked very out of place in the dingy room. Lying motionless in the bed was Evelyn Sibley. Madam Pomfrey was leaning over her, cutting bandages from Evelyn's leg with her wand. The four Aurors Lupin had mentioned were all sitting in the opposite talking quietly with Professor McGonagall.

The Headmistress turned around to see who the visitors were. Her eyes locked on Harry and watched with suspicion as he walked toward Evelyn's bed. "Potter... I left instructions with Remus to send word immediately if you woke. Is something wrong?"

"I'm not sure yet," he answered. To be honest, he wasn't paying much attention to McGonagall. He was focused entirely on Evelyn. She had not moved at all since he entered. He couldn't even see the slow rise of her chest to show that she was breathing. Nearly all of her bandages were removed now, leaving her lying on the bed in the same nightgown she'd been wearing in the Chamber. The only one remaining was wrapped across one of her eyes, and when Madam Pomfrey made a move to take it off, McGonagall stopped her.

"Leave that one for now, Poppy," she ordered gently.

"Shouldn't we check to see if it has... healed?"

"I suspect that Harry might be able to better explain the nature of that particular injury. Am I correct, Harry?"

Harry didn't know what to say. "I didn't really see what happened to her, but that's not what I'm here for. Has she woken up?"

"No," answered Pomfrey. "Nothing we've tried has worked. We were afraid you would be the same. What did Fiona do to wake you up?"

"Nothing," explained Harry. "Can you try again?"

With a nod from Professor McGonagall, Madam Pomfrey took out her wand and began trying a number of spells to revive Evelyn. Harry and the others walked over to stand at the side of the bed. Tonks and the rest of the Aurors joined them, forming a ring of spectators all around Evelyn. Nothing Pomfrey tried seemed to work at all.

"This is Evelyn Sibley?" Ron whispered to Harry. "I've never seen her in anything but robes and heavy cloaks. I never would have guessed she looked like this," he commented, glancing down at the nightgown stretched over her figure. Hermione overheard and threw a bitter look at him. Ron shrugged and held up his hands defensively. "What? Like you didn't notice?"

Harry was looking down at her, but his eyes weren't lingering over her nightgown. They were locked on an odd marking near the top of her chest. The skin there was darker, taking on an almost purple hue. Two faint lines stretched away from the patch toward either side of her neck. He looked up for a moment and found Ginny staring down at the same spot. A moment later, she looked up as well and she seemed know what Harry was thinking.

"I saw it, too," she whispered, "but not right away."

"I was hoping you'd notice that," Hermione commented. "It's not the first time I've seen a mark like that. That's just like the one I found on Marius Lipton's chest, though his was much, much worse."

Harry tapped Madam Pomfrey's shoulder and pointed toward the odd marking. "That mark on her chest... Was she wearing an amulet or talisman when she came in?"

"I didn't see one."

Very hesitantly, Harry leaned over Evelyn and reached toward her neck. Again, Ginny seemed to know what he was doing. Evelyn had been wearing something around her neck in the Chamber. It had been right there all the time and he hadn't seen it. What if it was still there?

"Be careful, Harry," Ginny warned him.

Gingerly, he pressed his fingers against the place where the dark line traced the edge of her neck. There was nothing. He ran his hand along her collarbone, but found nothing there either.

"It's gone," he announced. "There was... something around her neck. I couldn't see what it was, but it was right here."

"I came here straight away," the Headmistress told them all. "There was nothing around her neck."

"And who was here before you?"

"No one," she answered. "Justinian arrived only seconds after me, and Valencia had already left to fetch the two of you from the Chamber. Professor Lynch set up the room while I tried to get word to all the Aurors. I don't remember seeing anything around her neck."

Harry stared down at the mark. Something _had_ been there. It was gone now. It must have something to do with what had happened to her. Now, there were only two places it might be: lying in the rubble on the Chamber floor, or with Valencia Desmoda. Neither gave him much comfort. He tried to push it from his mind for the time being. He had a better source of answers lying in the bed in front of him.

"We need to talk to her," he said firmly. "I'd rather not wait. Hogwarts might still be in danger."

"As I said, she just isn't waking up," answered Madam Pomfrey. "Her injuries were severe. I fixed what I could, but only time will tell if we got to her fast enough. There are some potions I could try, but if they don't work—"

"They won't," Hermione whispered. When Harry tried to ask her why, she answered in an even quieter voice. "There are too many. She doesn't trust them."

Harry looked around and realized just how many people were huddled around the bed. There was no explanation for why it would keep Evelyn from waking up, but he decided to trust Hermione. She seemed to know quite a few unexplainable things. With a firm voice, Harry asked everyone to leave, letting only Professor McGonagall, Tonks and Simon remain, though they were standing at the other end of the room. He, Ron, Hermione and Ginny stood around Evelyn's bed, wondering just how they were supposed to wake Evelyn.

"Are you here to finish it?" Evelyn spoke suddenly.

Harry flinched, nearly raising his wand. He was certain that she had said something, but now that she was quiet again, she looked just as unconscious as ever, leaving him to wonder if it had been in his head. A quick look at the others revealed that it hadn't. They looked just as confused.

"Finish what?" Harry asked aloud.

Evelyn's eye blinked open and stared directly at Harry. "Are you here to finish killing me?" she asked without any emotion.

"Why would I want to do that?"

"Because you're supposed to be merciful," she replied. "I guess I'm wrong. That's why you saved her but not me."

"I didn't save anyone," replied Harry. "I didn't have a wand. I couldn't have."

"Of course you could," she replied with a bitter smile. "You did. I felt it. You don't need a wand, Harry. You cast a charm just by _wanting_ it. You wanted Ginny to live, and you found a way. You didn't understand what you were doing and the effort made you pass out, but you saved her. You didn't care about me, and that's why she's standing while I'm still waiting for any feeling to return to my legs." She gave her feet a thoughtful look. "Perhaps it's for the best. I should treasure every hour I have before the pain returns."

"You should be happy that you can still feel pain," commented Harry. "I'm sure any of your victims would much rather be in your place."

"Not if they truly understood it," she said. "If I am to be compared to those I've killed, then _I_ am the victim, and they are the ones who are in the enviable position. They're beyond the reach of all pain, now. I'm the one who is left to suffer."

"It is suffering you brought upon yourself," snapped Ginny.

"I was deceived, but it was my own failure. I was so blind," she said, her voice thick with self disgust. "I thought I could control him. I thought he needed me. I should have known he would pick you over me. They always pick you. I just don't understand... After everything you've done... he still loves you."

"You're delusional. I haven't done anything to Harry."

Evelyn gave Ginny a piteous look. "To Harry?" she responded, as though Ginny had said something utterly stupid. "You have no idea what you're dealing with. I could almost feel sorry for you if I didn't know it was all your fault. Even your ignorance can't outweigh the evil you've created."

"Well, why don't you tell us about it," Harry suggested. "What exactly are we fighting?"

Evelyn shook her head. "I can't. It's a force beyond all understanding. There are no words to describe it. It is as inescapable and unstoppable as time itself."

"And yet, we're still here."

"You're here because it doesn't want to kill you," she shot back. "It protected you at Cornwall and it abandoned me before I could kill Ginny."

"Apparently, it didn't want to kill you either," Harry responded. "Mira Franklin. Marius Lipton. Cirillo Presagio. They're all dead. You survived with nothing more than a few broken bones. That seems awfully lucky of you. What's so special about you that you get to live while everyone else dies?"

"You think that living is some sort of reward?" snapped Evelyn. "Do you think that my fate is so much better than theirs? Do you think that by surviving, I've somehow avoided the consequences of my choices? I know what I am!" she shouted. "I know what I've done. I'm not dead, but neither are they. The differences between them and me are not nearly so great as you might think, and until I join them, I will have to endure the mark of my disobedience."

Evelyn reached for the bandages which wrapped around her head and over her left eye. With a single tug, she pulled them loose. Harry had tried to prepare himself for whatever gruesome wound might have been under the bandages, but it was nothing like the truth.

A deep scar ran from just over Evelyn's eyebrow, down across the center of her eye and into the upper part of her cheekbone. Unlike the soft pink scars on Ginny's arms and jaw line, this was dark, following a jagged black line. When she opened her eye, Harry felt his stomach tighten. Her eye was an unnaturally bright, emerald green surrounded by a ring of black tendrils which spidered across the surface and under her eyelids.

"It did this to me," she whispered, "as punishment for believing that I might be able to defy its will." Her eyes turned toward Ginny. "Does it make you happy? Now you can be certain that Harry will never look at me with anything but disgust —or pity."

Ginny didn't respond. They all stood in silence for some time, trying to understand just what it all meant. Harry was the first to speak: "It is still a small price to pay for what you have done. I'm sure Voldemort would have given both his eyes for the power you had. This _thing_ you talk about, what exactly did it want you to do?"

"Whatever it told me to do," Evelyn answered quietly. "It wasn't really obedience, though. I couldn't defy it. Any freedom I had was only because there was nothing more pressing." She let out a sigh and rubbed her eyes. "The power was... intoxicating, but it wasn't mine. I was like a child playing with my parent's wand. I was stupid to think that I was ever in control of it."

"And what did it promise you in exchange for all this power?"

Evelyn's eyes glazed over and she stared down at her hands. "Nothing," she said, sounding utterly defeated. "It promised me nothing but pain and suffering. I agreed... because it would not let me refuse."

"If that's true, then you should want to help us stop it," Harry replied. "Why don't you start by explaining what is going on?"

"There is so much you don't know," she mumbled.

"Then why not start at the beginning?" he suggested.

She let out a short, bitter laugh. "The beginning... I'm sure you would be much more interested in the end, though it's hard to tell the difference between them, now. Though, if I had to pick the one thing that caused all of this, it would be Harry Potter."

"It always is," he commented flatly.

"I knew he was alive long before you did," Evelyn announced to Ginny. She sounded almost proud. "I heard the rumors. I saw the reports before the Untouchables hid them. I knew someone had survived the confrontation between him and Voldemort, and judging by the frantic behavior of the Death Eaters, it was easy to guess who it was.

"I saw through his disguise when he came back to the Ministry the night before the attack. I heard him... speaking... in Parseltongue. I knew something was happening. I tried to look for answers but before I could figure anything out, it was all over. Something important had happened in Romania. Something you weren't telling anyone else about. I knew you were there. You all were. You did something horrible and you were trying to keep it a secret.

"That was how it started," she said in a remorseful voice. "I just wanted to know what had happened. I wanted to find the lie. Ferdinand sent me to find out what sort of danger she was in so he could protect her. I wanted to find it to punish her." She raised her hand in front of her, watching it as she flexed her fingers. "I wanted her to twist and writhe in the trap she made for herself. I wanted to expose her for what she was and watch her suffer as everything she cared about what ripped from her." Her eyes turned toward Harry, but they had a distant look in them.

"I think that's why it called to me."

"This all started in Romania?" Harry asked, suddenly confused by her story. "But that's not possible. The Brotherhood is there. It had to be the Veil in London. Reynard played some part, I'm sure of it."

Evelyn's eyes filled with curiosity. "You never went back there, did you?" When he didn't answer she looked away and continued her explanation. "If you would have, you wouldn't have so much trouble believing me. Even you would have known something was happening. There was something dark and wrong about it, like a tomb which had been overrun by beggars. No one belongs there anymore. Even then, they all knew it. The guards were always distracted and more concerned with anyone who might be sneaking out than anyone sneaking in.

"I felt it almost immediately. For a long time I thought it was my own intuition, pointing me toward the place where I knew I would find what I came for. Despite my certainty, I held back, trying to understand what was happening in the city. There seemed to be some darkness hanging over everyone. The death of a minister is never an encouraging thing, but I felt there was something more, something hidden."

She continued talking, the words falling mechanically from her mouth. "When nothing happened, my courage grew. I knew where I needed to go. My thoughts had become more insistent and I started to sense that they weren't my own. Something was reaching out to me and it was coming from the castle. It promised me my answers. It promised me that Ginny would be punished.

"Getting into the castle was easy. Slipping past the guards required some timing and a decent amount of luck. It should have been impossible to find my way into the private areas of the castle, but somehow I did. There was a... an old storeroom. It had a large cellar filled with old crates. Behind one of the large stacks was a heavy wooden door. I slipped through and found myself in some sort of ancient catacomb. I didn't know where I was going. I was just following the voice in my head."

Harry and the others exchanged surprised looks. Somehow, she'd found an unguarded entrance to the lower levels of the castle. Grigore had insisted that there was only a few ways into the private areas used by the Brotherhood. Members were posted at each of them. Only the most diligent were given such duty. Even if they had lost members in the battle with Grigore, they wouldn't have neglected a known entrance.

"I didn't know just where it was," Evelyn continued. "Or what it was. The others told me to stay away —the other voices. They— they told me to run, but... the strongest one didn't. It wasn't like the others. It felt... familiar, yet powerful. Horribly powerful. Impossibly powerful."

She looked around at the four people surrounding her bed. "I— Something felt wrong. I was being led somewhere and I didn't know why. I stopped the moment I saw another wizard. He wasn't wearing the violet cloaks of the guards. It was long, and grey. I had overheard a few stories from the Unspeakables about grey cloaked wizards. I suddenly remembered my fear and turned around. As I went, the voice continued to speak to me. It told me that if I returned, there were many things it could teach me."

Harry turned and found McGonagall whispering to Tonks and Simon. They seemed totally shocked by what they were hearing. After what Harry had just been through, very little could surprise him. Yet, at the same time, he had not expected Evelyn to behave as she was. She seemed almost eager to tell them everything she could. It was as though she was trying to apologize.

"I left the castle, but not the city. I continued my search, and everywhere I went, I heard the voice whispering in the back of my head. It told me about secret gestures the guards used to identify themselves, secret places they met and where I could go to avoid them when I didn't want to be seen. I learned a lot, but it wasn't what I was looking for. The more I searched, the more I knew that there was only one way I'd find it.

"I returned to the castle. I went to the cellar and entered the catacombs. The voice told me where to go and I followed." She paused and something in her face changed. She stared up at the ceiling with an empty gaze. "I... I followed the corridors until I ran across the first guard. He saw me. He knew I didn't belong there." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "The voice was gone, but I knew what I had to do. I— There was a large metal lamp. My wand was already drawn. I banished it toward him. He didn't even have a chance to ask me why I was there. There was so much blood... and laughing. The voice was laughing. I heard someone else coming and begged it to tell me what to do. It did. The next one... I-I cleaned up the corridor and hid the bodies in the catacombs.

"That was the start of it," she announced, her voice wavering with grief. "They were the first."

Evelyn continued on, the explanations coming faster now, as though nothing else she was saying was nearly as bad as the things she'd already said. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. The more she talked the worse things got.

After killing the two Brotherhood members, Evelyn ventured further into the depths of the castle. Harry already knew what was leading her there. They all did. What Harry couldn't understand was why she found it so easy to move around. There had always been loads of guards on the path she was describing. As she told them about opening the door which had always stood between the normal areas of the castle and the area leading to the Veil Chamber, he suddenly realized what had happened.

Dragomir had told Josef he had collapsed the antechamber to the Veil Chamber and that it was permanently sealed. They had simply assumed that would be all that was necessary and that guards were no longer necessary. The wards were removed as well, since they would only prove that there was something worth finding. With the trouble they had trying to keep control of the rest of the Brotherhood, it seemed to be a perfectly reasonable conclusion.

Harry remembered things differently. Razvan and Tiberiu had never gone into the Veil Chamber, but they had both felt its effects. It wasn't hard to see that the same thing was happening to Evelyn. Whatever they had trapped beneath the castle, it had reached out to her. However, it wasn't in complete control. Evelyn was still frightened enough that she was unwilling to descend to the very last level. Instead, she sat on the stairs leading down to it and simply listened to what the voice in her head was telling her.

It told her everything Harry feared she could learn. She learned about the Brotherhood and all of their members as well as the fact that Harry was both alive and a former member. Even more troubling, Evelyn learned about the fate of Grigore Tarus in all the detail Mira had related to them earlier.

"He's still down there," she declared. "He's not dead and he's not alive. There's no flesh where he is, but there is pain."

Evelyn continued telling a story which began to sound eerily similar to the one told by Mira. She returned to the stairs many times over the next few days. She made reports back to Harrington and even began using the things she'd learned to search for information on Josef. She talked about the voice as though it was becoming her friend. It even started telling things that were happening in Britain.

"It told me about Mira and how she'd been attacked," she said. Harry noted a hint of pride in her voice. She had known about Marius before they had and she wanted them to know it. "It said she would never recover. It told me she was going to try and betray it... and that she'd be punished."

"It told me about Marius, too," she added. "It told me that he wasn't needed anymore —not since it found me. It had big plans for me. I was better than Marius ever could have been. He was a student. He was limited. I could move about. I helped it far more than Marius ever could have."

"Did you kill him, too?" Ginny asked.

"No," she said with a dazed expression, "but I would have. I thought he was an idiot. He didn't deserve the power he was given. That's why I convinced it to make _her_ the messenger," Evelyn said with a glance toward Hermione. "In exchange for my loyalty, the voice told me where Marius had left the source of his power. A few days later, I made a quiet visit to Hogwarts. No one even noticed when I slipped off to pick it up."

"To pick _what_ up?" Ron asked.

"You wouldn't know," she replied. "You weren't there, but don't worry. This isn't the only thing you don't know. There are many things that are being kept from you, but don't worry. It will give you your answers, just as it gave me mine."

"Answer his question," Harry snapped.

"You already know," she answered lazily. "You were just looking for it. It was right there all this time, and you only saw it at the end. That's the way it always is. You never notice what's right in front of you, but I do. I found it. The power... it's not natural. You don't know the power it holds, and that is only a glimpse of what is coming. It was a gift. I was told to use it as I wished, and I did."

"You used it to attack those people at Cornwall," said Harry. "Why? The Italian had no part in any of this. All of those people who died... they didn't do anything."

"It needed your attention," she answered. "You needed to see what you were facing. You needed to understand that it was more than a couple students. They were just the preparations. It was time for it to really begin. Everything is laid out, now. The plan is already in motion now and you can't stop it. It's inevitable."

"I'm not alone anymore. I have help. The Brotherhood—"

"The Brotherhood!" she laughed. "What Brotherhood? I think you'll find them less capable than they once were. You weren't the only one who hasn't been paying attention. Harrington has been preoccupied with the bickering between you and Reynard. While his eyes were turned inward, he has neglected to do his duty and see the greater crimes occurring elsewhere."

"What crimes?" Harry asked sharply. "What have you done, Evelyn?"

"They were traitors," she whispered. "They were evil. You don't even know all the things they've done. For every good thing they did, they did two to see that no benefit came of it. You know this, Harry. They deserved their fate. They've earned it."

"And what about you?" Harry asked. "What fate have you earned? What do you deserve?"

"I deserve you!" she shouted. "That's all I've ever wanted. It's the way it was supposed to be before _she_ ruined it all. I went to Romania looking for a way to fix things. I thought I found it. I thought I found an ally who wanted to help me. It told me how to get everything I ever wanted, but it wasn't enough."

"You were used!" Harry growled. "Where is your power now? You see how easily it was taken from you? It was never yours! You never controlled it. It controlled you, and now it's discarded you just like it discarded Mira, and Marius. You're nothing to it, Evelyn. It never cared what you wanted."

"You think I don't know that?" she shouted. "You think I didn't understand the price I'd pay? I know what I've done, Harry. I know far more than you do. You can't even imagine what it's like to have your mind filled with more horrors than you can count and not know which of them were committed by you. No, Harry. Whatever it was that spoke to me, it is not apathetic. It hates me, and in that, we are alike. I gambled with my soul and failed."

The self-loathing and despair in her voice almost made Harry pity her. "The thing you were wearing around your neck," he began, "where is it now?"

"I don't know," she answered passively. "It doesn't matter. It won't be needed any more. The messenger is already waiting for you to find him. "

"Who is this messenger? Where are we supposed to find them?"

"You would find him even if I didn't tell you," she answered cryptically. "The path is set. There is only one possible end. Nothing I do can change that."

"Then tell us how to stop it," he demanded.

Inky swirls filled her eyes. "My fate is sealed. I cannot escape that. Why should I let you escape yours?" Her voice was slow and shaky. She was obviously struggling to say each word. "If I am to suffer for eternity, why should I care what happens to the world? Leave me to my pain, and I shall leave you to yours."

Before Harry could respond, her eyelids fluttered and her body went limp. From behind him, he heard the Headmistress call for Madam Pomfrey. Within moments the room was filled again and Evelyn was once again totally and irreversibly unconscious.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

There you are. You wanted answers, and now you're getting them. That said, they aren't really the easiest things to understand, but we can't have everything can we? Chapter 23 is coming along nicely, but you'll probably have to wait until the end of next week to get it. Be patient. It will be an interesting one. Of course, so will Chapter 24.

Oh, and congratulations to everyone who correctly guessed that it was Ginny's tortured wail of agony at seeing Harry kissing her nemesis.


	23. The Seer

_This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

**CHAPTER 23**

**The Seer**

* * *

Harry slept heavily, but in his dreams kept pulling him back to the Chamber. Just like before, in his dreams it was Ginny lying on the floor, not Evelyn, and she always ran off to the same spot on the wall. Now, however, there was no doorway. Instead, he always found the spot marked with a large worn circle, crossed by three equally spaced lines. Every time it was the same. 

When he awoke, he found Ginny sitting silently in one of the chairs in the room. He felt a moment of hollow panic before remembering that Professor McGonagall had given them permission to ignore her previous restriction.

Perhaps there wasn't any reason for the rule anymore. After all the attacks that happened the previous night, it was possible that Hogwarts would be closed down. Unless they could find some way to blame all of the attacks on Evelyn and provide some sort of assurance they would stop, it seemed rather likely.

Ginny didn't appear to have noticed him yet. She was staring blankly at the small fire still burning in the fireplace. As he looked at her face, he knew what she was thinking of. The full weight of what had happened struck him as well and he felt like he was going to be sick.

She had almost died. It hadn't been the first time, of course. He still remembered the rage that had boiled in him when he saw Tiberiu cast the Killing Curse from the roof of the building in Giza. Somehow, this was worse. That had been so much more spontaneous. Even the battle in Romania had been easier to accept. It had been about him, not her.

This most recent attack had a disturbingly planned nature. It was more than just trying to kill her. Evelyn and whatever had taken control of her had orchestrated a sequence of events over the last few weeks to make the previous night possible. In many ways it felt like fighting Voldemort all over again, but even more personal. It was as if he were the only person who mattered.

"Good morning, Harry," Ginny greeted him. Her voice seemed to confirm his suspicions.

"Good morning," he replied. "I... I'm sorry about everything that happened. There were a hundred different ways I could have handled it and I can't help but think that I've—"

"How did you do it?" interrupted Ginny. Harry gave her a confused look. "The charm that saved me," she explained. "It was the same one you used outside Fred and George's shop. I know it was. How did you do it? You— You didn't have your wand."

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "I just sort of... I— I don't understand it either."

"I wish I knew what that meant," replied Ginny.

* * *

Neither of them left their room until late the next afternoon. When they finally did emerge, they found Ron and Hermione waiting for them. Ron looked far more tired than Hermione, but still in better spirits. There was something troubling in Hermione's eyes that Harry couldn't quite figure out. As they walked down to the Great Hall to meet Lupin, he tried talking to her, but it was obvious she didn't want to discuss anything. 

The Great Hall was filled with chaos and Lupin was mired in the very center of it. Harry was dismayed at the sight at first. Hundreds of students filled the hall along with their trunks and animal cages of various shapes and sizes. Pairs of prefects were walking about, leading small groups of students who still didn't have their things to the main doors.

"Are they closing the school?" Harry asked Lupin once they finally reached him.

"No!" he replied in a hushed voice. "Not yet, anyway. Considering how close it is to the Christmas holidays, we're just sending them home early. The Aurors arranged for the Hogwarts Express to make a special trip this afternoon."

Harry looked around the hall. The students weren't overly excited, but they didn't seem at all bothered, either. "They seem to be taking it pretty well, considering."

"Yes, well that's to be expected," whispered Lupin. "Right now, we're only saying that Miss Rose's death was a horrible accident. Bad reaction to a protective charm, I believe."

"So you're lying."

"Harry, you must understand," Lupin hissed as he pulled Harry away from a group of younger students. "We've already told the Governors and the Ministry what really happened. They were the ones who decided not to make it public. I think they're afraid of the panic that might happen if people thought the problems here were related to the attack at Cornwall."

"It was."

"I know that, Harry," Lupin insisted, "but things are complicated."

"It was also complicated when Voldemort returned," commented Harry. "The Ministry did the same thing. Have you forgotten how that ended?"

"No, I haven't," the professor said gravely. "I'm not the one with the bad memory. In fact, I seem to remember that you were the one who hid himself from the rest of the world for a year. You had no trouble letting everyone letting everyone believe a lie then."

"That was different. I did it to protect—"

"Yes, I understand," interrupted Lupin, "and that's just what we're doing right now. Something is happening and you're a part of it, Harry. The last attack simply proves that you can't ignore it. So which would you rather do: fight this just as you have been doing, or fight it with every witch, wizard and wizarding publication in Britain watching you?"

Harry didn't have to answer. Everyone knew the answer. He had a job with the Ministry that let him move around easily. He had the support of the Minister, even if the man was only using him to keep his job. He had the help of Ginny, Ron, Hermione and the other Order of the Phoenix members. If everyone knew, there would only be even more panic and he'd have even more trouble being secretive. He didn't know how long it could last, but Lupin was right. There was no point in announcing it until absolutely necessary.

"What about Evelyn?" Harry asked. "How are we supposed to explain what happened to her?"

Lupin quickly told him that Harrington had already quietly announced that Evelyn had returned from Romania with a serious illness. Luckily, it coincided with reports of outbreaks of other diseases across eastern Europe. The statement claimed that she had collapsed when she came to Hogwarts to leave a report with Harry.

"And what happens when she wakes up?" asked Harry.

Lupin frowned. "We'll find some solution," he said. "At the moment, I don't think that's much of a concern."

* * *

Once the students left the castle, Harry understood why Lupin wasn't worried about Evelyn. She was still lying in the same bed and hadn't moved since Harry had left her in the early morning. In many ways, she appeared to be petrified, yet her limbs were easily moved. Her skin had also paled like Mira's had, though not to the same degree and there were no signs of and streaks of dark color. Harry noticed Hermione regarding the girl with a look of pity, but he didn't question her about it. 

Late that night, Evelyn was taken to St. Mungo's. Earlier that evening, it seemed that she might have been close to waking up. After only an hour or so, it was apparent that she was actually having a series of rather disturbing nightmares. Despite Hermione's desires, St. Mungo's insisted that Evelyn have no visitors while they tried to figure out just what was happening to her. With both the students and Evelyn gone, there was little need for Harry or Ginny to remain at Hogwarts, so they returned to Sirius's old house once more. Kreacher greeted them with a bitter scowl and then promptly disappeared into the cellars.

Ron and Hermione chose to return to Hermione's flat above Diagon Alley. Somehow, there seemed to be a little less conflict between Harry and Hermione, but she still didn't act like herself around him. Ginny spent the next few days at the Ministry looking over the stacks of requests for the upcoming round of Quidditch World Cup matches. She returned late each evening and shared dinner with Harry, before relaxing in the parlor and eventually falling asleep. They never talked much about what happened, but Harry knew that something about it was bothering her.

Something was bothering him as well. Each night his dreams reflected his memories of what had happened in the Chamber. It was as if some unconscious part of his mind was trying to tell him something important, but he just couldn't quite understand what it was. The dreams came again and again, all through the night. Each time he would wake up feeling as if he knew what he was supposed to do, but he could never quite remember what it was.

They started out much like the very first one. He would see Ginny lying in a pool of blood on the floor of the Chamber. She would get up, and he would follow her to the same spot on the wall. Usually he would see the large circular symbol engraved in the wall. Other times he saw only an empty, impossibly dark hole.

As the weekend arrived, the dreams slowly changed. It was no longer Ginny lying on the ground, but Evelyn. She would stare at him with glowing green eyes, mocking him and laughing at his confusion. He started being able to see the same oddly glowing shape he'd noticed down in the Chamber. It hung around her neck just where they'd seen the scars on her chest. There was an answer there. There was some information he was supposed to understand, but he couldn't see it.

Harry knew that Ginny had started to notice the nightmares. On the Sunday before Christmas, he found her watching him as he woke up from yet another dream about the glowing object hanging from Evelyn's neck.

"Are you alright, Harry?" she asked timidly.

He tried to think of some way to explain it. He knew that he was missing some piece of the puzzle. The most recent dreams left the distinct feeling that he had forgotten something important. It wasn't anything from his dreams, though. It was something else. There was something he was supposed to do, but he hadn't done it.

"And... you don't have any idea what it might be?" replied Ginny after hearing his explanation. He shook his head slowly. "Right," she said with an almost mournful expression. "Well, if you ever find out what it is... You'll come to me, won't you? You'll tell me before you run off?"

Harry tried to assure her that he wouldn't do anything like that, though in truth he wondered if he would have the choice. That night, when the dreams returned, they took on a new tone: urgency. He began feeling like he was running out of time. He didn't know just what might happen, but he couldn't shake the feeling even after he woke up.

He tried to take his mind off of it by going to Diagon Alley. He needed to buy Ginny a Christmas gift, but it made him feel guilty to know that he was only using that as an excuse to try and talk to Hermione. He had hoped she might have some idea what was happening. After selecting and arranging for the Goblins to deliver payment for Ginny's gift, he walked quickly to Hermione's flat.

Hermione wasn't there. Harry found Ron sitting on the couch holding his wand and a huge book. He put both away as soon as he saw Harry.

"Where is Hermione?" Harry asked.

"I don't really know," Ron replied flatly. "She's been going to St. Mungo's pretty regularly, but she usually tells me if that's where she is headed. I'd guess she went to the Ministry. Why do you ask?"

"Oh... Nothing, I think."

"That's hardly convincing, mate."

Harry ran his fingers through his hair and leaned back against the door. "I'm missing something," he said. "There's something I've forgotten, or some piece of information I've overlooked. I just don't know what it is."

"What about that thing you said that witch had been wearing around her neck?" suggested Ron.

"I already asked Lupin about that. He went down into the Chamber with a team of Aurors. They didn't find anything at all."

"Well, I'd say it fits the description, then."

Harry shook his head. He didn't know how to explain it. "No, it's something else. There's some danger I'm not seeing."

"I think you just need a holiday," replied Ron. "Christmas is nearly here. You can come to the Burrow and we'll help you relax. I know Mum and Dad are looking forward to it."

Harry nodded his head and feigned interest. He simply couldn't concentrate on anything but the dreams. They were invading his thoughts even when he was awake now. He knew something needed to be done.

He suffered through another restless night of dreams. They changed yet again. Now it was only him and Evelyn in a darkened room. She didn't say anything at all. She would just stand there, staring at him with one dark brown eye and one brilliant green one. He didn't wake until late morning, and Ginny had already left for the day. Harry paced about the old mansion, trying to work out what the dreams could mean.

That evening, when Ginny returned, he didn't tell her about the dreams. He knew they had been wearing on her as well. Instead, he tried to simply relax. Perhaps Ron was right. Perhaps he just needed to let himself unwind. He forced himself to forget the nightmares and he focused instead on simply enjoying a lazy evening with Ginny. They talked about their plans for Christmas and how difficult it would be to have so many people in the Burrow. Harry even allowed himself to smile once or twice. That night, Harry fell asleep convinced that the dreams would finally stop.

Within minutes he found himself staring at the sight of Evelyn lying in a bed. He couldn't tell just what sort of room she was in and he was positive that it didn't matter. There was nothing to do, so he simply stared at her. Just when he began to think the dream would be nothing more than that image, Evelyn's eyes blinked open and she stared at Harry with seething hatred.

Her scarred eye flashed green and she sat up in bed, extending a glowing palm toward Harry as she started hissing words his mind quickly translated into some ancient curse. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't be hurt in a dream, could he? Suddenly, he heard a dismayed cry behind him.

"No! I won't let you—"

A shape which looked shockingly like Ginny rushed forward, brandishing a short, black blade in one hand. With a single vicious motion, she plunged the blade into Evelyn's chest. Then, just as suddenly as she appeared, she faded into the black, leaving Evelyn to take one last rasping breath before collapsing back onto the bed. She then faded away as well, but as she went, the spot on her chest where she'd been stabbed —the very same spot where the amulet she'd been wearing had rested— remained slightly longer, glowing a pale green, until it was the only thing that Harry could see.

"Harry!" a voice cried out from the dark.

Harry suddenly sat up and found Ginny standing over him. She looked very worried. "Harry, are you alright? You were having another nightmare, weren't you?"

"Yes," he replied distractedly. He knew that he should be worried about the dream he'd just had and that he should try to assure Ginny that he was alright, but he found himself distracted by a much stronger thought: Evelyn was the key. He didn't know what he'd missed, but he knew that she had the information he was looking for. He knew it with more certainty than he'd felt in the past year.

"I need to go," he announced. "I've got to go to St. Mungo's." Before Ginny could even think to protest, he was out of bed and searching for fresh robes to wear.

"Then I'm coming with you," she said as she began pulling off her dressing gown.

"No!" Harry nearly shouted. The picture of her stabbing Evelyn flashed in his mind. It was insane to think she might do that, but it seemed to be a clear warning that Ginny shouldn't be there. "This is something I need to do alone," he told her.

Contrary to her fears, she stopped what she was doing and simply agreed. "Alright, Harry," she replied in a calm voice. "Go. Do what you need to do. I trust you. I trust you to come back."

"I will, I promise," Harry said as grabbed his wand and searched for a pair of socks. His boots and winter cloak were downstairs. He had everything he needed. He stopped at the door to say goodbye. Ginny hadn't moved.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I... I know this is bizarre, but... I might be able to figure out what is happening."

Ginny didn't say anything; she just nodded and gestured for him to go.

* * *

When Harry arrived at St. Mungo's, he was relieved to see a different Welcome Witch than the one who had been there for his last visit. She was much more agreeable than the previous one and didn't mind at all that Harry had arrived well past normal visiting hours. After searching through her bag, she asked Harry to sign a Chocolate Frog card with his picture on it and began explaining where he could find Evelyn. 

In a rushed and somewhat nervous voice, she told Harry how Evelyn had been moved about from one ward to the other. When she first arrived she had been put with the magical diseases. After less than a day, the Healers there declared that her injury was totally unlike the conditions of the other students from Hogwarts and had sent her to the Spell Damage ward. Apparently the Spell Damage ward was overcrowded, and they had sent her down to Creature-Induced Injuries ward.

"I don't know why they would do that," she commented as she beamed at the card. "Usually the creature attacks are pretty easy to spot, you know?" With a contented expression, she put the card back in her pocket. "Naturally, the Creature-Induced Injuries Ward sent her back immediately. It's no wonder she's not getting better. All that moving around and no one treating her. Spell Damage still has her, as far as I know. Do you know the way?"

Harry nodded and walked through the door leading to the stairs. When he finally reached the fifth floor he found it dark and rather empty. Of course it was late, but he had expected that someone would have been around to simply notice that someone had arrived.

He walked down the corridors of the Spell Damage Ward looking for Evelyn or some Healer who might know where he could find her. It was more difficult than he expected. As the witch at the door had said, the ward was busier than he'd ever seen it and the majority of the doors were closed tightly. Judging from the sounds many of the patients behind them were making, this was a good thing.

Unfortunately, for all the patients, there seemed to be a distinct lack of Healers. Everywhere he looked, he found only empty corridors and darkened rooms. Finally, he spotted a pair of Healers standing in an otherwise empty room. One was much older than the other. The younger one was pacing in front of him in visible frustration.

"...care how much they're paying us. We're still working on all the others from the match at Cornwall," he said in a strained voice. "Some of those people are seriously injured. I don't have the staff for another forty patients. If I know the Bulgarians, they're all probably from overexcited fans that can't wait for the next match. That means minor injuries and troublesome patients. Tell the Bulgarians to send them to Athens."

"They say Athens won't take any more," replied the older one.

"Then tell them to ask Paris —or Giza. I'd like to help them, I really would, but we've taken enough. Every single Healer in the ward has been working eighteen hours a day just to handle the number of patients we have right now. I can't handle ten more, much less forty."

"What about just one?" the older wizard said as he noticed Harry standing in the doorway.

The younger Healer turned and gave Harry an appraising stare. "Apparently you're walking just fine. No screaming. No missing limbs. No extra limbs. Whatever you've got, I'm sure one of the Healers down in Artifact Accidents can fix you up."

"I'm fine," Harry told him, "but I need to see Evelyn Sibley."

The Healer raised an eyebrow. "Miss Sibley? Are you from the Ministry?"

"Er, yes," answered Harry.

"Then I have no time for you," the wizard replied dismissively. "I have a full ward, and you lot know that quite well. I said we'd tell you if anything changed and nothing has changed. So why not save all of us some time and just copy the report you took two days ago."

The older wizard had a lopsided smile on his face. "Aren't you Harry Potter?" he asked. "Why did they send you to check on the Sibley girl?"

"I don't care if they sent Merlin himself," the younger wizard groaned. "I doubt even he could get that girl to wake up. There's certainly nothing Potter could do about it. Now, if I was in the need for dozens of tragic deaths and weeks of work, he'd be the first wizard I'd go to. Now, seeing as you've got all your innards and you ability to walk, I suggest you leave us to our work."

The wizard's arm slashed toward him, and with a faint flash, the door in front of Harry slammed shut, leaving him in the empty corridor. With a disgruntled huff, he continued his search. He didn't need to speak with a Healer. It wouldn't have taken any more time to simply tell him where her room was.

The news that her condition hadn't changed was worrisome, however. If she was truly unresponsive, then there might not be anything he could learn. Of course, after being rescued from the Chamber, she hadn't responded until Harry had arrived. He held out hope that this might be the case yet again.

After a few more minutes of searching, he found another Healer. This one was moving slower than the others, probably due to the enormous cart he was guiding down the corridor with his wand. Harry jogged to catch up with him.

"Ah, hello there," he greeted the young witch. "I'm here to see Evelyn Sibley. I talked with a couple of wizards a while back and they gave me directions, but, well... He was in a bit of a hurry and I think I missed the last bit."

She didn't even look up at him. "You're Potter, aren't you?"

"Er, yeah," he answered, wondering if this would make it more or less likely that he would receive an answer.

"You work the Ministry now, do you?"

"Yes, I suppose."

"Brave of you to come here," she commented. "You know quite a few of the people in these beds blame you for what happened to them." She finally turned to look at him and shake her head. "You're not very popular here, Potter," she said, adding, "—not that I blame you, of course. You weren't the one who cursed all those people. Sure, it might not have happened if you weren't there, but—"

"Hold on," Harry interrupted her. "The people here, they're from the attack at Cornwall? But... I mean," he stumbled, trying not to sound too callous. "There were quite a few people hit by the Killing Curse, but... the rest were just injuries from the towers, right? Why are they in the Spell Damage ward?"

"Because it wasn't just injuries from the exploding towers," the witch said as she worked the cart around a tight corner. "After the attacks, lots of people started coming in with strange problems: lost sight, lost hair, no feeling in their legs. Minor stuff, at first. Slowly it got worse. The most common one now seems to be excruciating pain."

Harry was speechless.

"Oh, it sounds worse than it is, though I suppose it's not really my place to judge," she added. "We can treat it. Quite a number have been cured, but more keep showing up. It's probably best that you came at night. During the day, some of the ones who're recovering walk around the corridors. I don't expect you would have received a warm welcome."

The witch twirled her wand at the cart and it came to an abrupt stop before spinning around to face a large doorway. "Well, this is my stop," she announced. "Have a nice night. I'll have to tell my son I saw you. He still thinks you're a good wizard, no matter what the _Prophet_ says."

"Hold on," Harry called out, ignoring the comment about the _Prophet_. "What about Evelyn Sibley?"

The witch gave him a curious look. "What about her? She's not like the people from Cornwall. I believe she was sent here from Hogwarts, of all places."

"I wanted to find her."

"Oh, right. Well, there's nothing much to see," said the witch. "Or rather, seeing is about all there is to do. When she came in, we had to keep her sedated. She kept on having horrible nightmares. They stopped after a day or so. Since then, they've tried everything to wake her up, but none of it works. There were rumors that she was getting better, but most of us think she won't live to see Christmas."

"I really need to see her."

"It's a waste of time," she warned. "You aren't going to find anything."

"Then it won't take me long."

With a sign and a shrug, she stepped into the corridor and pointed in the direction Harry was already facing. "Suit yourself. Follow the corridor to the first junction, turn left and follow it all the way to the end. She's in the last room on your right. She's got it all to herself."

* * *

Harry stepped into the room. It was dark, lit only by a single flickering torch on the far wall. In the dim glow he was able to make out Evelyn's face as she lay in the room's only bed, flanked by a small table and a wooden chair. It was easily large enough for more patients, though Harry could understand the Healers' reluctance to place anyone else with her. It did feel quite a bit like his dream, but he tried to push that from his mind. It wasn't real. It was just a dream to tell him where he needed to be. 

He walked carefully across the room. The sound of his own feet in the empty room was unnerving. He felt like he was being watched. His eyes searched the shadows, but quickly turned back to Evelyn. She had not moved. She was lying on her back, so motionless that he began to wonder just what the Healers had meant when they said she'd been getting better. Cautiously, he walked closer.

Despite the echoing of his footsteps on the tile, she didn't make even the smallest movement. If she was breathing, it was far too slow and shallow to see. He stopped at the side of her bed and looked down at her. Her eye was unbandaged. Did that mean it had healed? Overcome by curiosity, he bent down to take a closer look.

Slowly and very cautiously, he put his hand on her shoulder. She felt cool, though not cold. It was the feel of someone who has been lying in a chilly room for a few days, and after the fever she'd had since the day she left Hogwarts, it was a good sign. He tapped her lightly, but she didn't stir. After yet another tap, she still hadn't moved and Harry felt both more worried and more confident about taking a closer look at her.

The scar running across her eye was a little lighter, though the black line in the very center hadn't faded. As he stared down at her in the flickering light, he thought he saw her eye twitch. He jerked his hand away and drew his wand quickly, but nothing else happened. A minute later, he was certain that it was nothing more than his paranoia.

He reached forward again, even bolder this time. Gently he touched the lid of her left eye, and carefully pulled it back. An emerald green eye stared vacantly up at the ceiling. Then, suddenly, the inky black pupil contracted in the light until it was little more than a small black spot in a pool of green.

Harry jerked his hand away and raised his wand, ready to cast the most powerful hex he could think of if she would so much as lift a finger.

"Relax," a voice called out from the darkness. "She will not wake."

Harry whirled about and trained his wand on the figure of a tall wizard who was just stepping into the light of the torch. He was old, with dark eyes and a lean face. Though Harry's first thoughts were of the old man Ginny claimed she had seen, he knew immediately that this was not him. His robes were ornate, yet worn. The brightly colored patterns embroidered into the cloth were dingy and fraying along the very bottom.

"What do you mean?" Harry replied suspiciously. "She'll never wake up? Is she—"

"Oh, no. She is quite alive," the old man assured him. "I meant only that it will still be some time before she returns to consciousness. Two days. Perhaps three. These things are not exact." He stopped and stood completely still, as though waiting for some action from Harry. "You will not need your wand," he said, breaking the awkward silence. "I am even less of a threat to you than she is, and she doesn't even know you're here."

There was an odd confidence about the man. Perhaps some of it was the nonchalance that comes with age, but there was something more. He had shown no fear. His request had sounded more like he had done it for Harry's comfort not his own. Harry slowly lowered his wand.

The old man smiled. "I must thank you for the compliment, though," he said with a laugh. "It has been some time since anyone has pointed a wand at me due to any concern for their safety. Rest assured, were I to have any malicious intent, there is little I could do to exercise it. In dueling, you are my better by far." He paused to let out a small sigh. "I fear that I am admitting that increasingly often and to more and more wizards. I suppose that is the irony of wisdom. By the time one grows wise enough to correctly judge the strengths of others, one has few of them left to themselves."

Harry watched the man with interest as he walked to the other side of Evelyn's bed. There were several things about him that didn't seem to fit. His robes were much more ornate than any of the Healers walking about the ward. He was far older than them, as well. It was possible that he was one of the wizards who ran St. Mungo's but something about his mannerisms seemed off. Harry had assumed they would be stuffy and official, like Fudge had always been. This wizard was far older —possibly older than even Dumbledore had been— and yet he moved with an impressive amount of grace and fluidity.

Even his voice felt strange. He was not British, though he spoke flawlessly. His accent was oddly clipped in a way that felt familiar to Harry, yet he could not recall just where he had heard it. The faint bronze tint in his skin suggested a Mediterranean location, but it could have been just as easily explained by a love of the outdoors. Of course, such possibilities only made his presence even more unexplained.

Harry watched curiously as the old man slowly laid the back of his hand against Evelyn's brow. After a moment, he nodded approvingly and moved to her arms. He lifted one, inspecting the back of her hand, then her palm before moving on to the other. Finally, he looked down at her face, paying particular attention to the scar on the left side.

"I'm afraid her eye will never return to its true color," he said as he inspected at it just as Harry had. "Still, few could hope to be so lucky to survive with no more than that."

"Are you a Healer?" Harry asked.

"A Healer?" the man said with a thoughtful expression. A smile spread across his face slowly. "I never thought of it like that. Yes, I suppose I am. I am _her_ Healer, though I am not employed by this hospital."

"Then why are you here?"

The old wizard stood up properly. "You could say I am a specialist in the disease she had been suffering from. I heard of her situation and traveled here to offer my services. I have managed to cure her, though it will be up to her to complete her recovery."

Harry's eyes narrowed and his hand drifted toward his wand again. "You're a liar. You didn't cure anything. This wasn't caused by any disease."

Still, the other wizard didn't seem at all concerned about Harry's mood. "Perhaps not like the wizards two floors below us with dragon pox," he said with a little condescension, "but what is a disease? For a time, she carried a plague with a devastating power far beyond even Sinai Fire Fever."

Harry still wasn't comfortable. "Well I've spoken with this disease."

The man's eyebrows twitched. "Of course you have. No other wizard walking the world today could understand it as you do."

"What does that mean?"

"It means whatever you choose it to mean, Harry," he replied. "You've admitted that you know more about it than anyone else in this hospital. You've talked with it, and that makes you quite rare. Even I cannot make such a claim. Would you say more? I have learned much over the past few days, but I suspect there is quite a bit that only you could tell me."

"How do I know I can trust you?"

The man let out a short laugh. "I honestly do not know. I also don't know why that should be a barrier to our discussion." He continued laughing as he sat down in the chair next to the bed. "Come now, Harry. You've talked with both Rufus Scrimgeour and Auguste Reynard. You've trusted Aurors and even turned to Evelyn here for information. Why would you suddenly insist on trust now? You spent _three months_ with Grigore Tarus. He taught you many things and you discussed a wide variety of topics. You helped him recruit Henri D'Anneau, of all things! After all that, now is the worst time for you to choose to speak to only those you trust."

Harry stared at him intently. There was no explanation for why he knew the things he did. Only a Brotherhood member could know his part in D'Anneau's rise to power. "Do I know you?" he asked. "Have we met?" Casually, just as Josef had taught him, Harry put a pair of fingers against the side of his face and traced an arc down along his jaw line. If the man was in the Brotherhood, he would recognize the gesture as an announcement of Harry's membership as well.

The man only smiled. "I'm sorry to say that we have not," he answered, "and to answer your silent question: I have never been a member of the Brotherhood of the Sacred Balance."

"Yet you know the signals they use to greet each other?" Harry replied, deciding not to pretend that he didn't know exactly what he'd done.

"There are greater enigmas in this world than the Brotherhood, Harry. I have not lived as long as I have by walking about with my eyes closed. In my years I have learned a great deal. Quite a bit of this might be useful you, though not quite as useful as those things which I know but haven't yet learned."

Harry frowned. "I'm in no mood for riddles."

"Nor I," the wizard agreed. "The world is filled with mystery enough. There is no need to go about creating more. Over the past few days, I have spent the bulk of my time on one particular mystery. I admit that it is particularly troubling to me. I would very much appreciate it if you helped me solve it."

"And I should just agree?" Harry asked warily. "I don't even know who you are. For all I know, you could be one of Reynard's Unspeakables, trying to gather enough evidence to throw me in Azkaban."

"You will tell me what you know, Harry," the wizard said in a hard voice. "I do understand your position. Your reluctance is prudent, though ill-timed. You have long since forfeited your choice in this matter. You have an obligation to tell me."

"I'm afraid I don't see why."

"It is your fault that she is here, Harry!" the old wizard barked. "It is your fault that this thing found her. She unlocked the door, but _you_ gave her the key."

"You're mental," replied Harry as he backed away. "I barely knew her. It's not my fault she had a bloody crush on me."

"I am not talking about that," the old wizard said in a calmer voice. "I am talking about this." Slowly he reached into his pocket and drew out a loop of fine silver chain. At the very end hung a jagged chunk of stone. It was roughly triangular, but stretched to a point at one end. As Harry leaned closer, he could see the dull red stain of blood on it. "I believe you've seen this before," the wizard said. "It has hung from Evelyn's neck for some time. The scar is still healing."

The amulet.

Harry stumbled backward, looking from the stone to Evelyn and back. Could it really be the same one? Was it a trick? What purpose would it serve? The longer he looked at it, the more certain he was that it was the amulet Evelyn had been wearing. He could _feel_ it somehow, though it felt more like a memory of the malice he'd seen in Evelyn. Harry continued backing away slowly. Whoever the wizard was, if he had that amulet, he couldn't be trusted.

"Relax, Harry," the old man called out upon seeing his reaction. "There is no power left within it. Perhaps the last of its power was spent giving her the scar you see on her eye. Perhaps it destroyed itself. I cannot say. I know only that it holds no trace of the power which drove Evelyn to commit the horrible acts she did. I would not be holding it if that were not the case."

"And just how did you get it?"

"That isn't nearly as important as how she got it," the man dodged. "That's the part I don't know, but I think you do."

"I... I don't really— She didn't really say all that much," Harry tried to explain. The old wizard simply stared at him, waiting for something more. Reluctantly, Harry began recounting everything he could remember about what Evelyn had told them. When he was finished he turned to face the other wizard. "That's all she said. That's all I know. Now are you going to tell me what it all means?"

"It means precisely what you said," the wizard answered mysteriously. "However, there is quite a bit that you didn't say and I am afraid that is the most disturbing part. It wasn't hard to work out how it arrived at Hogwarts, but I didn't understand how she had gotten it." He nodded his head slowly. "I see my mistake, now. Things have progressed much further than I had expected. We need—"

"You _expected_ this?" interrupted Harry.

"I knew it would happen eventually, yes," the man agreed, "but I didn't know when. I hoped I had much more time."

"So you knew this was going to happen, but you claim that it's _my_ fault?"

"Knowing how a cottage will burn and starting the fire are two completely different things." He held up the amulet again. "Do you recognize this? Do you know where it came from?" Harry shook his head, earning a disapproving frown from the older wizard.

"You have just told me that Evelyn was told where she could find this, and that it had given Marius the power he needed to attack that poor girl. Have you not given any thought as to how a young boy would get such an artifact?"

"His father worked for Auguste Reynard. He had access to—"

"His father was Marcus Lipton, a member of the Brotherhood. Marcus killed himself only days after your battle in Romania. He had been trying to kill himself ever since you escaped. He only succeeded after sending this amulet to his son who, by coincidence, was a student at Hogwarts. Young Marius attacked the first girl, and later attacked himself, it seems, so that it might pass to Evelyn."

"So where did his father get it?"

"Do you not remember him?" the wizard asked.

"Not especially," answered Harry. "I spent most of my time in Romania. Marcus kept an eye on the Ministry. I kept well away from the Ministry and he rarely left. I think we only met once."

"There was a second time," corrected the old man. "As you fled the chamber in Romania, you stopped and returned for an injured wizard. Without any thought to the nature of his injuries, you pulled him to safety. And in that one act of mercy, you unleashed an unspeakable terror upon the world."

Harry stared at the man in bewildered shock. "If you're not a member of the Brotherhood, then how could you know all of that happened?"

"Now is not the time for that discussion," the man replied. "You will get your answers, but not now and not from me."

"Why not?" snapped Harry. "You said I had an obligation to tell you what I know because it was my fault, but you won't tell me why. I saved a man's life. If he turned into a madman, it's not my fault, and if you knew what he was going to become, then _you_ should share the blame for doing nothing to prevent it."

"I did not know it would be him, but I did know it would happen," the old man announced stiffly. "And with that knowledge came the certainty that no actions of mine could prevent the eventual outcome."

"And why is that? Did you see all of this in some crystal ball? If you are innocent because you couldn't stop it, then how could I be guilty for not stopping something I couldn't possibly expect?"

"The man you saved had been pierced with a piece of the stone arch which had held the gate closed for ages. That particular gate had been damaged for centuries. The thing imprisoned on the other side knew this and had been forcing its will through for some time. When the arch was shattered, every piece took some of that thing's will with it. It was trying to get out. The barriers had remained intact since their creation. No one has ever been breached. Not until your act of kindness."

"What was I supposed to do?" Harry cried. "Should I have let him die?"

"What you should or could have done doesn't matter. Your choice was known long before you made it. However, that does not change the fact that it was _you_ who broke the barrier, Harry."

"But Josef was the one who destroyed the arch," argued Harry, "and if Aleksey had not cast a charm to protect us, we all would have died that day. Why do I have to carry all of the blame? I didn't choose to fight in that chamber, Grigore did. Why are his choices so much less important than mine?"

The old man waited patiently for Harry to finish, then spoke his answer in a calming voice. "They aren't," he said. "In truth, they are much more important. Before, when I spoke of this being your fault, I did not mean to say that you should be blamed for the outcome. The very idea of assigning blame is foolish, and doubly so in this situation. I meant only that all events have their causes, and often quite a few."

"Through your actions, you have woven yourself into this tale. But you are not alone. Josef and... Aleksey are no different. They are bound to their fate as tightly as you are. Grigore has already paid for his involvement. Indeed, it is his actions, not yours, which will have the greatest repercussions."

"If you know so much about what is happening, why didn't you come forward earlier?" Harry asked. "Why stand back and watch this happen? What kind of person could do that?"

"I have asked myself that same question more times than you can imagine," the man replied solemnly. "I can say only that I did what I felt needed to be done. Perhaps you and I are not so dissimilar. You saved Marcus Lipton because you could not live with the knowledge that you let him die. I did nothing... I stood in the shadows and watched my fears realized... because I was horrified of the thought that I just might be able to change things."

He looked up at Harry, his eyes wide with fear. "The future is a _terrifying_ thing, Harry. The possibilities are infinite, but we must walk such a narrow path. One misstep and..." His voice trailed off as he shook his head slowly. "We have come so far. I could not risk it. Not now. Not when we are so close."

"And yet you're here now," replied Harry. "You seem to have handled your fear well enough. If you could heal Evelyn, why didn't you even _try_ to heal Mira?"

"Perhaps I would have, had I thought it possible," the old wizard replied, looking sincerely saddened. "I doubt Evelyn's life holds much significance, anymore. Her part is played. Curing her will have little effect on the world. But that was not so with young Miraphora... I know it is not an easy thing to hear, but Miraphora Franklin's life ended before you even met her. It ended the night Marius Lipton cut her with this stone," he said, raising the amulet again. "The... person you spoke to was nothing but a puppet, a shell of the person who had once bore her name. The condition you first saw her in was caused by her body's attempt to simply die. The power from the amulet fought back, keeping it from her, preserving a shred of her spirit long enough to lure you into the trap."

As he listened, Harry felt his stomach tightening. Mira had known. She had known that something was wrong all along. She'd tried to tell him, but he didn't see it. No one had. The thought was unimaginable. For months she had lived in torture, imprisoned within her own body. There had been no purpose to it. She'd suffered so that Evelyn could use her as bait.

"And what about her?" Harry asked, glaring down at Evelyn with disgust. "Why should she get to live? Why interfere now if you would not with Mira?

"I assure you, my interference is minimal. I can heal her wounds, even shore up the damage done to her soul, but I cannot repair a broken spirit. This thing you face, this _disease_, it doesn't know mercy. It let her live for a reason. I do not know why. Maybe it wanted the two of us to meet."

"Maybe it saw how horrible she was and realized the world would be better without her," Harry said, surprising himself with his own anger toward the young woman. "Who are you to choose who lives and dies? You never gave Mira a chance. You didn't even try to let her die. What is so special about Evelyn? Why save her?"

"Because I was meant to save her," the old wizard announced. He stood and began slowly pacing as he inspected the ceiling above them. "Maybe it was a mistake. Perhaps she will live to commit more crimes against her fellow wizards. Perhaps I have only prolonged her pain or spared her so that she might endure some further cruelty. No matter what her path might be, there is little hope of her seeing the coming summer. However, I must hope there is a _chance_ that she might find an honorable, wholesome death before that time."

"A _wholesome_ death?" Harry repeated, deeply confused. "You saved her just so she could find some better way to die?"

"No, Harry," the man said as he stopped to give Evelyn a piteous look, "I saved her in the hopes that she might still be capable of dying."

Everything they had been talking about slowly started coming together in Harry's mind. Could he have been wrong all this time? He had been convinced that this all had been the work of some wizard, but the more he understood what had been happening, the harder it was to believe that Reynard or indeed any person could be capable of such acts. The attacks weren't just against wizards or wizarding society. They were attacks against magic itself.

"What is causing all of this?" Harry asked. "What sort of... creature is capable of these things you say it's done?"

"You do not know?" replied the old man. He gave Harry a crooked smile. "Grigore tried to tell you. He tried to show you. You looked into the Veil. What did you see?" He had an oddly piercing look in his eyes, as though he already knew the answer to his own question.

"I saw a wizard —a Dark Lord," Harry answered stiffly.

"You saw only what you were capable of understanding. If you truly did see what you thought was a Dark Lord, then you still have much to learn," the old man explained. "This thing is no Dark Lord, Harry. Your language has no words to describe what it truly is. It is beyond our notions of good or evil. It is something else. It is part of nature and yet utterly unnatural.

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Did Grigore tell you that story?"

"No. While the Brotherhood of the Sacred Balance may have the right intentions, their beliefs are naive. Only now that it is too late are they beginning to realize the truth and the damage they have done." He let out a long breath and shook his head. "I saw their folly. I never expected they would pay such a price for it." Harry gave him a confused look and asked him what he meant.

"I do not know how much Evelyn told you before she lost consciousness, but I suspect that there is quite a bit you do not know." The old wizard crossed his arms and began pacing at the foot of Evelyn's bed. "She killed a pair of Brotherhood members. I expect she did it herself, without any... influence. However, that was just the start. I'm afraid the Brotherhood is not what it used to be. Evelyn was not the only one who heard the call from beyond the Veil. They were doomed before she even arrived. It won't be long before their failure is complete. While many of the things they did were pointless, protecting the Veil Chamber was not one of them. They will fail in their task."

"How can you know that?" replied Harry. "The Veil Chamber is buried behind tons of charmed stone. It's been sealed permanently."

"I don't know how it will happen; I only know that it will. It has been a long time since it was imprisoned. We have learned quite a bit since then, but we have forgotten much as well," the old man explained. "If there ever were records of the wards used to contain it, they have been lost. The Veil was the strongest barrier, and the oldest. The ring surrounding it was another, and the Chamber itself was the last. They are all that keep this thing from entering our world."

"Our World? What sort of thing is this?" Harry asked in disbelief. "What world does it come from? Is it some sort of ghost?"

"This thing you face cannot be easily described," the old man said as he turned to continue pacing. "It has never been killed, so it cannot be a ghost. Nor is it a creature of any sort. One might think of calling it a man," he said, pausing to shake his head, "but that is both a terrible mistake and a horrible disservice to mankind. To be honest, I don't think it has any form of its own any more, though I suppose the most natural one might be that of a very old wizard."

"—Wearing a dark, hooded cloak," added Harry.

"Ah," the old man responded with a nod. "I should have suspected it would make itself visible to you. I assumed it would have learned patience over the ages, but I had not considered that it would have learned arrogance as well."

"Over the ages?" commented Harry, remembering Moaning Myrtle's comment. "Just how old is this? Is it immortal?"

"That is a fine question," the man said as he stopped to hold his finger to his lips thoughtfully. "Perhaps," he answered after some time. "Of course, the word is meaningless in practice and ill-fitting in this case. If it is indeed immortal, then it is because it has been robbed of death. The ravages of time have done nothing to lessen its will or power."

"Can it be destroyed?"

"That is irrelevant. It will not be destroyed."

Ignoring the old man's cryptic answer, Harry attempted to ask his question another way. "Can it be stopped?"

This made the man think a moment. "Many wizards have tried. None have survived the attempt. Any strategy which attempts to stop it will not succeed."

"Everything can be stopped," Harry declared. "Even if it seems impossible. It's tried to kill Ginny twice already. I know it won't be the last time. It has to be stopped. I've got to try."

The old man nodded solemnly. "I know you do," he said, staring into Harry's eyes. "You will try, and you will fail."

"And how could you know that?" scoffed Harry. "Did some prophecy tell you?"

"I suppose you could think of it that way," the man replied with a thoughtful look.

"Prophecies are rubbish."

The man waved his hand dismissively. "Prophecies are often little more than the foresight of wisdom wrapped in a riddle vague enough to allow the prophet to choose the time of its fulfillment. You were the one to call it a _prophecy_. I only said that such a word would be an acceptable way of thinking about it."

"What word would you use, then?"

The reply was simple and direct: "Truth."

"I'm tired of your riddles. _What is happening?_" Harry growled. "You said you were a specialist. Tell me what I need to know."

The man was unaffected by Harry's outburst. "You already know everything you are capable of understanding."

"Is it Voldemort?" Harry asked.

"What?"

"This thing —this ghost or monster or whatever— is it Voldemort?"

A strange smile spread across the old wizard's face. "That is an interesting question. Just what is Voldemort?"

"Is it Tom Marvolo Riddle?" Harry asked with growing frustration. "Is he trying to come back? Is trying to get revenge for what I did?"

"Tom Riddle is dead. The dead cannot come back, Harry."

"What is it, then? Why does it want Ginny? What is it trying to do?"

The man smiled as if he were proud of Harry. "Those are excellent questions."

"And do they have excellent answers? Do you have some idea of what we're supposed to do if we can't stop it? How are we supposed to fight it if it can't be stopped? Can you even tell me how _not_ to fight it?"

"You are everything I was told you would be," the old man said. "You are already asking the right questions. However, it will be up to you to find the answers to those questions."

Abruptly, the old man turned his back on Harry and began walking toward the door.

"No, stop!" Harry called out. "Where are you going? You haven't answered my questions!"

The man stopped and turned around at the door. "There is nothing more I can tell you. I can see it in your eyes, Harry. You are not ready to accept the answers I could reveal to you. When you understand what you face, we will meet again."

"What if I never understand?"

"You will. You already have answers you seek. They are within you, but they don't want you to see them. The time will come for you to open your eyes and see your purpose in nature. You will understand then. You must. This is not our last meeting. Our paths will cross again, I assure you."

Harry was torn between confusion and anger. "I've never believed in Divination, you know."

"Neither have I," the wizard said with a short laugh. "And yet, I am faced with the inevitable truth that we will indeed meet again."

"When?"

The old man simply shrugged. "I cannot say. That is not part of the truth I have been given."

"How is that not Divination?"

The old man stepped away from the door. "I have not seen our meeting in a crystal ball. No sopping pattern of leaves has revealed this fate to me. It is not Divination to foretell the setting of the sun, the coming of winter or even the eventuality of our own deaths."

"Of course not," replied Harry. "Those things are unavoidable. There are a hundred things which could happen to prevent us from crossing paths a second time, and yet you want me to believe that no matter what I do, I will see you again. What if I were to find the next dragon and toss myself into its jaws? Are you saying that I would somehow survive?"

"No, of course not," the wizard answered as though the suggestion were absurd. "I merely said that we will meet again. Knowing that truth does not mean that you cannot be killed. It merely means that you _will_ not."

"It sounds like Divination to me."

"I assure you it is not," the man said as he walked to the door and opened it. "I am certain that we will meet again, just as I am certain the sun will rise tomorrow and flowers will bloom in the spring. And with that same certainty, I know you will try to stop this thing, and that you will fail. I take no pleasure in that thought, I assure you. I simply don't want it to be too much of a shock to you when it happens."

Harry didn't know how to respond. Before he could think of anything, the man had stepped through the doorway and into the corridor. "Good evening, Harry," he said with a smile and a quick bow. "I look forward to our next meeting." The door closed slowly, leaving Harry standing next to Evelyn's bed and feeling terribly confused about what he was supposed to do.

* * *

When Harry returned to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, he heard voices coming from the kitchen. He left his boots and cloak in the entryway and walked quickly to the kitchen. 

He pushed the door open and froze. He didn't know exactly what he had expected, but it hadn't included finding Ron and Hermione sipping tea in his kitchen at midnight. Even more unexpected was the looks on their faces. Instead of greeting him with smiles or even groggy nods, their expressions were solemn and uncertain.

"What is it?" he asked.

"When you were out... Ron got an owl."

"Er... Right," replied Harry. "It's not particularly interesting, but it's nothing to get depressed over."

"It's for you," she said. "It was delivered to Paris by messenger and sent by owl from there. I don't know when it was sent or who sent it, but I— I think it was sent from Romania."

"So why was it sent to Ron?"

"I don't know," she replied. "Something tells me that you might understand after you've read it."

Harry walked to the table and picked up the scrap of parchment. It had obviously been torn from a much larger piece and written very quickly. As Ginny had told him, the note was unsigned. Harry read it quickly.

_A number of guards have been transferred away from the castle due to a Muggle incident in Korzha. It should be resolved before the end of the month. Because of the decreased number of patrols, the South Gate has been locked by the Warden of the Tower. Please use the North Gate until further notice._

Harry didn't react to the message immediately. He read through it a second time. He recognized it as Dragomir's writing, but there was something not quite right about it. It was filled with ink blots and smeared strokes. He must have written it quickly and under some amount of stress. Considering the message, it wasn't hard to understand why.

"Do you know what it means, Harry?" Ginny asked him.

"There is another message hidden within this message," he told them.

"It's a warning, isn't it?" Hermione said. "The Brotherhood told me that if Reynard ever found out about my link to them, I should send a message to them mentioning that the South Gate should be locked."

"It's not a warning," Harry explained. "It means that a Brotherhood member was attacked. It's a call for help. The Muggle incident in Korzha is another signal. It means that someone has infiltrated the Brotherhood. Josef said he'd never seen it used. Usually anyone who did that was dead before they could send the message."

"So, the message doesn't really mean anything," Ron said. "We already knew all of this. Evelyn infiltrated the Brotherhood, and she killed at least two of them. Of course, that was a long time ago, but who knows how long it took to deliver the message."

"It's not talking about Evelyn," Ginny said in a low voice. "It's talking about Harry." Everyone turned to look at her. She frowned and kept her eyes down. "That's who the Warden is. That's what Josef told me to call Harry. He's the Warden of the Tower."

"They think _you_ are attacking the Brotherhood?" Ron said. "That doesn't make sense. Why would you send a call for help to the person you think is attacking you?" Ron scratched his head. "They've got to be talking about Evelyn, right? Or... whoever had been controlling her."

Harry's thoughts immediately returned to the Seer at St. Mungo's. He said that Evelyn had done more than she had told them. He'd also said that she hadn't been herself. Something had been controlling her, something that she'd found in the depths of the castle. In Harry's mind he saw the same vision which had haunted his dreams for a year: his own image staring back at him through the arch in the Veil Chamber. Could it be using his appearance to attack the Brotherhood? Is that why the message was sent? Had Dragomir figured out that it wasn't Harry?

"Maybe he just wanted to make sure you knew it was meant for you?" Hermione suggested.

"No, there's a different way of doing that," he told them. "If he wanted to put a message somewhere public and let me know it was intended for me, he wouldn't have called me the 'Warden'. He would have called me 'Harker'. The 'Warden' was only used when they were hunting me. It was something that—"

Suddenly, Harry understood what the message meant. It all fit together. How had he forgotten?

Ginny noticed the change in his attitude. "What is it, Harry?"

"I know who is attacking the Brotherhood."

Ginny sat back in her chair. She saw the look on his face. Their eyes met and he knew that she had already guessed the answer.

"It's Josef," he said in a hollow voice. "That was the name that Josef called me when he was hunting me. Dragomir used it as a warning that the Brotherhood and I were in danger. He must have been worried that his message might not make it out by owl, so he sent it by messenger and hid his message so no one could understand what it really meant."

"But... why?" Ron asked. "I thought Josef was helping us."

"He was," replied Harry. "The last thing Evelyn said she remembered was meeting Josef. I don't think Josef is in control of his actions. I think he's been hunting the Brotherhood, and now he's waiting for me to come find him."

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

There we are. You all like this one better?

I realize that some of you might be a little troubled or worried. I'd like to say that everything will be okay, but April Fool's day is well past us all now. Sorry.


	24. A Dark Tide

_This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

**CHAPTER 24**

**A Dark Tide**

* * *

Harry was first to tumble out of the fireplace. Almost immediately he had his wand out and ready. The only light in the room came from the flickering green flames in the fireplace behind him, but he easily recognized his surroundings. He'd arrived just where he had expected: the small arrival hall in the Gatehouse of Oras-maisus. However, it was obvious that quite a bit had changed since he and his friends had used it on their way to confront Grigore Tarus. 

Most importantly, it seemed completely deserted. He searched the shadows for any sign of movement, though he hadn't decided whether the apparent emptiness of the room was really a good sign. His left hand reached into his pocket to fish out a small leather pouch. He crouched down and waited nervously for someone to jump out of a darkened corner or burst through the doorway.

A flare of green flame behind him illuminated the room and announced Hermione's arrival. In the brief moment of light Harry saw a harrowing view of the room he was standing in. The furniture had been broken and tossed about. A large tapestry hanging from one of the walls had been ripped in half. Just before the light faded, he spotted the lamps which had once lit the room. They were shattered, ripped into pieces, and strewn across the floor.

"It's empty?" Hermione whispered as she pulled her wand and backed herself against the nearby wall.

"I think so," Harry answered.

"And the Portkey? Is it ready?"

"It will be." Harry clutched at the leather pouch in his left hand. In it was a Portkey which would return them to the Atrium at the Ministry. The Castle had anti-Apparation wards which were even stronger than the ones at Hogwarts. Considering the power Evelyn had wielded, a Portkey might be their only way of escaping a difficult situation.

However, there was a risk as well. Since Grigore's failed attempt on Harry's life, the Brotherhood had opened a number of connections to other fireplaces on the Floo Network. The one they were using came from Vienna. It saved them a long train ride, but it wasn't as quick as the trip from Oradea. That meant that if the first person through was attacked, they would have to defend themselves on their own.

Unfortunately, it was even more complex than that. There would be no way for the first person through to warn the second of any danger. As the first person through, Harry's job was to keep himself safe and get the Portkey ready for use. Lupin told him it should take no more than a few seconds, but it would require his full attention. However, to use it, he had to wait until all four of them had arrived or leave one or more of them behind. Since Ginny was the last, there would be no chance of that happening. Hermione was there. If the situation got bad, she would protect him while he prepared the Portkey.

"Have you heard anything?"

"Nothing," answered Harry.

"Were you able to see anything?"

"Not much," he replied quietly. "It wasn't encouraging. You'll see for yourself. Ron should be along any second."

Just as Harry predicted, a burst of flame announced Ron's arrival moments later. Instead of watching Ron, he took another opportunity to survey the room. He ignored the most obvious changes, focusing instead on whatever details he could find that would tell him what had happened. The light lasted for two seconds at most, but it was enough for Harry to notice a number of dark patches around the room. Many of them were small, no larger than a hand print. They appeared to be the blasts from powerful spells. A pair of other spots was on the floor. They were larger and abnormally shaped. The one closest to Harry had a shape along its edge which looked like a hand print. Four dark streaks led away from it toward the door.

"Harry?" hissed Ron. "Hermione?"

"We're here, Ron," answered Hermione. "The room looks abandoned, but— keep quiet, anyway."

In the dim light, Harry watched Ron's shadowy outline shuffle toward the sound of Hermione's voice. Had she seen what Harry had? The room told a rather grisly tale. He hadn't told the others much about what he'd learned from the Seer at St. Mungo's, but he also hadn't expected it would be quite as bad as things now looked. It wasn't just the room. It felt as though the entire Gatehouse was empty. Hermione felt it, too.

"Something's not right here, Harry," she whispered. "Guards are supposed to be here. There are alarms. This room isn't supposed to be abandoned."

Harry's response was quick and to the point: "I don't think it was voluntary."

Seconds later, the fire flared one last time and Ginny tumbled across the floor. Harry's eyes had already adjusted to the dark and he was able to watch her clearly as she struggled to push herself onto her feet and pull her wand out at the same time. Ron approached in attempt to help her, but she quickly spun away from him and leveled her wand at his chest.

"It's alright, Ginny," Harry announced. "The room is empty. No one was here."

"And none of you thought of lighting the place up a bit?" she snapped in frustration.

"I think it might be better if we didn't," mumbled Ron.

"Harry, I—" Hermione began, "This is all wrong. We shouldn't be here. Get the Portkey out. We should leave."

Harry refused. He walked to Ginny's side and took one last moment to search the shadows for anything that might pose a threat. Finding nothing, he pointed out the broken lamps on the floor and asked her to repair and light them. As she did that, he slipped off to the side, and waited for anyone to come through the door.

As the first lamp flickered to life behind him, he heard a pair of gasps. The second lamp was never fixed. It wasn't needed. One was more than enough to fully understand what had happened in the room.

Harry noticed the doors first. There were cracked and their hinges were bent and twisted. Smears of blood could be seen down the center where the two doors had met, and a small part of a larger pool was visible on the floor stretching underneath them. It was now dried and dark. Whatever had caused it had happened some time ago.

As he turned around, he saw the full extent of the events that had taken place there. The two large spots he'd seen before were also blood, but they weren't the only ones. The walls and floor were covered with crimson streaks and darker spatters. Dark scorch marks dotted the walls.

"What happened here?" Ron asked in shock. "The... the Brotherhood did this?" he asked looking at Harry and Hermione.

"No," Harry answered. "I expect someone else did this to the Brotherhood."

The four of them took a moment to stare at the room. Harry forced himself to remain focused. There was no point in dwelling on the horror of it. He needed to know when it happened and who had done it. The broken remnants of a table near the doors suggested that whoever had been in the room had known of the attack long enough to attempt to barricade themselves in.

"Harry?" Hermione called out from the center of the room. She was kneeling by the pool of blood trailing off to the doors. "There are some... troubling scratches here." He walked over to where she was pointing.

"What the bloody hell are those?" asked Ron.

"It looks like a creature of some sort," Ginny offered in explanation. "They look like claw marks." She tilted her head, trying to get a better view. "Maybe a Hippogriff or... a small dragon?"

"Whatever it was, the pool of blood was dry when it made these marks," Hermione explained. "This wasn't a single attack."

Harry began looking around the room again. Slowly, patterns started appearing in his mind. "There were at least three attacks," he guessed. "Maybe four or even more. It's impossible to tell." He walked to the wall opposite the door. "Look at these marks," he said, pointing at the blast spots on the wall. "There are quite a few here. They came from the doorway, and they were wizards. I doubt they would have brought a huge creature with them. There are no claw marks here, anyway."

"So which side were we cheering for?" Ron asked.

"The losing side, I'd guess."

Harry walked over to the fireplace and noted how the area was ringed with black scorch marks, broken furniture and cracked walls. "I'd guess that a couple of wizards stood here with Shield Charms or something similar. They were..." His voice trailed off as he turned around and found himself staring at the fireplace. "They were trying to keep the way open. They were trying to make sure we'd be able to come here."

Ron frowned. "And now we're here, and they're, what... dead?"

"Or worse," Harry replied, though he didn't explain just what worse fate he imagined. "Whoever attacked them didn't want to stop us from arriving. They just wanted to stop us from having any help."

"Harry, this is a trap," Hermione announced. "Get the Portkey. We need to leave."

"We knew this would be a trap when we left Vienna."

Though it was true, Harry didn't want to have to remind them of it. Of the three of them, Ginny was the one who seemed to be taking it the best. She didn't appear overly confident, but her face was stern and determined. Ron remained as confused about their mission as he had the moment Harry had returned to Sirius's old house and there was a hint of suspicion in his eyes, suggesting that he still hadn't made up his mind about what was about to happen.

Hermione was the most troubling, though. She didn't say anything; she just stared at him with an accusing expression on her face. She knew something she wasn't telling anyone. Their eyes met and he suddenly recognized the look in her eyes. It was the same odd mix of emotions she'd had the day of the match at Cornwall.

His eyes immediately traveled down to her left hand. She had used the winter weather as an excuse to wear a pair of long black gloves. Unlike the others, she had not taken them off since leaving London. Ron had only questioned her once about them. Now Harry noticed that her left hand had begun to twitch occasionally. Realizing what Harry was looking at, Hermione scowled and shoved her hand into her pocket. It merely confirmed what Harry already suspected. Whatever had been controlling Evelyn wasn't far away.

"We need to go," he announced.

Hermione threw him a sharp glare. "Go? Go where?"

"To the Castle. That's where this started."

"And it looks like _this_ is where it ended. I'd rather get an idea of just what sort of trap this is before we jump into it."

"We don't have time."

"This room has been empty for days, Harry," said Hermione. "The only thing that might change in the next hour is our understanding of what happened here." Harry scowled at her, but she didn't back down. "If I'm the only one, then I'll shut up and go quietly."

Harry turned to look at Ron and Ginny. Both of them appeared slightly surprised and confused, but Ginny was the first to speak up.

"I don't know what happened here," she began quietly, "but I know that Josef needs us and I trust Harry to know what needs to be done."

All of them turned to look at Ron, who seemed rather uncomfortable with being put on the spot so suddenly. Hermione said nothing to him, but their eyes were locked on each other as if they were having some sort of silent argument.

"I trust Harry, too," he started hesitantly, "but I don't like not knowing what I'm facing. That didn't work out so well last time." He gave Harry an apologetic look. "Sorry, mate. I'd rather know what killed these poor blokes so I know what I'm running from. It's been weeks since this started. What would another hour or two matter?"

Harry clenched his teeth and nodded. "Fine," he growled. "An hour. No longer. After that, we're leaving."

Ron, Hermione and Ginny exchanged troubled looks, though none of them voiced any specific concerns. They gathered the few things they'd brought with them and checked their Shield Cloaks one last time. Harry slipped the small bag holding the Portkey back into his pocket, but first made certain that the knot tying it closed was not too tight.

He approached the door and tried to open it quietly. Quick attempts at magic failed completely. Despite being partially open already, the charms which once protected remained in place and it refused to budge. After wrestling with it for some time, Ron stepped up next to him and they tried to force it open together. At first, it seemed just a resistant to force as it had been to magic, then they were rewarded by the faint whine of metal twisting free.

"Harry!" Ginny cried out in a hushed voice. "Watch out, it's—"

It was too late. With a piercing _clang_, the door broke free of its top hinge. The bottom hinge could not support the sudden increase in weight, and it groaned and then snapped just as suddenly. Harry and Ron reacted instinctively, throwing their weight against the heavy wood in an attempt to keep it from crushing them. They succeeded, but in the worst way possible. The bottom of the door ground against the floor, then it slowly fell away into the corridor. Harry had just enough time to understand what was coming. Ron saw it, too, and they both dove behind the remaining door and pressed their hands against their ears.

A thunderous noise shook the stone floor as the door came crashing down. The echoes took seconds to fade away, giving the four of them plenty of time to think about what had happened.

"I think I'd like to change my vote," whispered Ron. No one objected.

With his wand held firmly in one hand, Harry strode through the doorway and out into the corridor. The rest of the Gatehouse was just as dark as the last room had been, but there was no longer any purpose in trying to remain stealthy. Hermione quickly conjured a small blue flame and held it in the palm of her left hand. Harry had seen it done a number of times, but this time it was slightly different. Where the flames touched her gloved hand, they took on a noticeably greenish hue. A warning glance from Hermione reminded Harry to say nothing and keep moving.

The doors to the rest of the city weren't far, but all of them remained cautious. If anyone was waiting for them, they must know where they would be headed.

They reached the large intersection in the middle of the Gatehouse. Harry paused a moment to check the path to the doors before continuing on. It was too dark to be certain, but there was still no sign of anyone else. They proceeded with a little more speed.

"Harry," Ron whispered. "Can you hear that?"

Harry slowed his pace, but kept walking toward their destination. He strained his ears against the thick silence surrounding them. "No," he replied under his breath. "What did you hear?"

"Er, I don't really know," Ron said as he walked slightly ahead of Harry. "Whispering, perhaps. It was... sort of like a quiet rustling."

"We're not far from the door. It's probably just the wind."

As they continued walking, Harry couldn't help but start hearing all sorts of unidentifiable sounds. The slightest difference in one of Ginny's footfalls or the rustle of Hermione's cloak against her heavy robes made him twitch. As the large gates became visible through the inky haze, he began to wonder if the whispers he could hear were the same thing Ron had heard, or if his mind had simply created them.

Without him noticing, Ginny had sped up to walk next to him. "Harry..." she said in a low voice. "Something ahead of us just moved."

Hermione seemed to have noticed it as well. She slowed down slightly, and had raised her wand from her side. With a quick movement, Harry caught Ron's attention and he spotted it, too. Something was hiding behind a pillar halfway between them and the gates. As they continued walking, it shifted again, almost like an animal preparing to strike.

"Do you have any bad feelings you'd like to share, Hermione?" he whispered as they continued to gradually slow their walking.

"This whole place feels bad," she muttered, "but it's worse ahead of us than it is behind us."

"Alright then, you keep an eye on the door," he told her. "Ron, you make sure no one comes up behind us. Ginny— You just do whatever seems right."

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

"I'm going to greet our friend," he whispered. "Hermione, I don't think we'll need that light anymore."

Taking the hint, Hermione tipped her hand, letting the ball of flame drop to the floor. It splashed into a thousand sparks and faded quickly. Before the light had even died, Harry had made a dash for the wall. In a matter of seconds he'd covered the distance to the pillar. Harry ducked down and spun around the pillar, pointing his wand directly at the face of a terrified wizard.

He covered his face with his arms. "No— Don't— I—" the man stammered as Hermione ran past them and crouched down facing the large gates leading the courtyard. Ron was standing on the other side of the corridor looking back where they came from. Ginny was standing next to him, but watching Harry.

"Who are you? _Speak!_" Harry demanded.

The man pulled his arms from his face, and Harry recoiled slightly. His eyes were bloodshot and seemed to be bulging out of his face. He looked thin and weak and his skin was pale with red blotches. Harry squinted at the man's robes. They weren't grey or purple but green. He was just a common wizard.

"I am Mihai Stanescu," the main said with raspy tones. "I— I cast... charms."

"What are you doing here?"

The man began shaking as he stared at Harry's wand. "I was... The Minister called me to repair the wards— They were broken, you see. I didn't— I didn't know why."

"Where is everyone else?" Harry asked harshly.

"Dead," the man replied, "—or— or changed."

"And how did you survive?"

"She let me live... She said I was special." The man turned to look at Ginny and Ron and his expression turned to one of fear. "She said I had a job. I was supposed to explain... what happened here."

Harry saw Ginny walking toward him, but he didn't look away from the wizard. "Who is _she_? Who did this?"

The wizards stared up at Harry with wide eyes. "The red witch," he answered. Seeing the question in Harry's eyes, he continued: "Her robes were always bright red... like blood. She looked like a young woman, a beautiful woman, but... the things she did— And her eyes... they were the brightest green I've ever seen."

"Evelyn," Harry announced.

The man's eyes filled with awe. "She... has a name?" he asked. "You know of her?"

"Evelyn did this?" Ron called out. "Who else was helping her? Was it that bastard, Reynard?"

"I— I never saw anyone else. Not with her," the man said. Harry slowly lowered his wand but kept it ready. If the man was going to attack them, he would have done it already. However, he let Ron and Hermione remain on guard for any ambush.

Harry let the man speak, but he encouraged him to do it quickly. Despite their fears about announcing their presence, nothing had happened and the man seemed to have valuable information. As he explained what he knew, Harry felt his stomach clench. The man said that the first disappearances had started before he had arrived, but that the first stories of wizards being brutally attacked by a witch in red robes had started in mid-November. Harry closed his eyes as the memories flashed before his eyes: Evelyn had been showing off her red robes to him when he delivered her book to her. She had been smiling. She'd seemed _happy_.

"For a long time, no one would believe it was happening," the man said. "Guards reported seeing the red witch walking around, but no one remembered talking to her. They even accused me of helping her by sabotaging the charms, but I didn't," the man declared. "The first time I saw her... I— I told the guards, but they didn't believe me. And the next day they were found in the East Corridor and the North Corridor... and the just outside the gate," he added with a disgusted expression.

"I went to leave," he said, the memory of fear filling his voice. "I didn't care what any of them said. No one's life is worth this. They said the fireplace wasn't working, but there was no other way out. I went to the end of the West Corridor and—" He paused to look around the pillar. "The guards were dead and _she_ was there. She... she—" He swallowed and stared down at his leg. Harry hadn't even noticed it before. Thick bandages were wrapped from the man's ankle to his knee and darkened with old blood stains. "The bone," the man said sadly, "it's— They said there are only splinters left."

"She let you live?" Ginny asked suspiciously.

The man let out a bitter laugh. "You make it sound like mercy," he said flatly. "She said that I had a job to do. I was supposed to live and wait. She said that some day..." He stopped and looked down at the floor. "—some day, two wizards and two witches would come through the fireplace, and I was supposed to tell them what happened here. I was supposed to tell them... what they had caused."

"She said four of us would come?" Harry asked. The wizard nodded weakly.

It was a troubling thought. How could Evelyn have known that? Wasn't she convinced that he would leave Ginny for her? Why would she expect that they would ever come to Romania? Harry tried not to think about the old wizard at St. Mungo's. He'd said similar things. They couldn't have been linked somehow, could they?

"The next day... she just disappeared," the man continued. "There weren't many of us were left. Maybe twenty or more. All the healers were dead, too. A few of the guards tried to fix my leg, but... nothing worked. Dragomir tried to organize what was left of us, but... they were in the Castle and we were in the Gatehouse. No one was willing to take the High Street. A few of the guards found an old tunnel and were trying to clear it but— Then _he_ came. Now I'm the only one left here. He— I never knew anyone could— I haven't heard anything from the Castle either."

"Who is _he_?" Ginny asked.

"I— I don't know," the man said weakly. "He wore a dark cloak. I've never seen him before, but some of the guards knew his name —the powerful ones, the ones in purple. They were the first to...to..."

The man didn't need to say much more. Harry had heard enough to understand what had happened. "We're going to the Castle," he told them man. "Stay here, and we'll come back for you when we're done."

The man leaned around the pillar again. "No, you won't," he said with finality. "There is no path. The tunnel is blocked. The High Street is... Evil things live there, now. It isn't safe. Nothing is." The man leaned closer to Harry and dropped his voice: "Not even this corridor."

Harry froze. "What do you mean?" he whispered, slowly raising his wand in case the man attacked him.

"You are being followed," the man hissed.

Harry turned to look at Hermione. She shook her head silently. Waving, Harry caught Ron's attention and nodded back toward where they'd come from with a questioning expression. Ron took a moment to search, but turned back a moment later and shrugged. He didn't see anything.

"My eyes have not seen the sun for a week," the old man croaked as he looked around the pillar, "and neither have theirs."

Harry leaned out to stare into the black emptiness of the corridor. He felt his chest tighten as the faint whispers he'd heard earlier returned. He turned to look at Ron and found a similar look of surprise on his face.

Harry looked into the man's eyes. "How many of them are there?"

"It doesn't matter."

"How many?"

"Two, though it might as well be one or a hundred," the man replied defeatedly. "They will not die. Not at night. The guards tried everything. There's no point. They were following you before you found me. You'll never make it to the Castle."

Hermione tapped Harry on the shoulder. "We've got to go," she said. Ron was slowly crossing the corridor. His wand was out and pointed toward a pair of faint shadows which were slowly getting closer to them.

"Remember when I said we should stay and find out what happened?" he whispered. "That was a mistake."

Harry stood up and walked to the center of the corridor. He told Ginny and Hermione to start walking to the gate. Ron tried to pick up the man, but he shoved Ron away. "It took me a whole day to get here," he told Ron. "I wouldn't make it ten feet with them following me, and neither would you."

"You'd rather stay here and die?" Ron snapped.

"Rather die alone than take you with me," the man said with a shaky nod.

The shapes walking toward them became a little more distinct. "Harry!" Hermione called out. "We need to go, _now_!"

Ron pointed at the crippled man. "We can't leave him!"

Harry already knew what had to be done. The look in the man's eyes just confirmed it. He didn't blame Harry for what needed to be done. He knew he had died a week ago. He'd probably been allowed to live until Harry arrived. Now that he had, there was nothing to protect him. His job was finished.

Harry pushed the thought from his mind. There was nothing he could do about that. For the moment, he just needed to escape. Whoever was following them didn't seem to be in any hurry. The gate wasn't far away. If they could reach it quickly, they might be able to lock it from the outside. Of course, it didn't sound like things were any safer on the other side, but that was a situation they could face later. Harry decided quickly on a course of action. If they were going to run, the least he could do was make it a little harder to spot them. He raised his wand and pointed it at the advancing silhouettes, causing them to pause briefly.

"_Lumos Maxima_!" he shouted.

Blinding white light streamed from his wand filling the corridor. Standing some distance away were a pair of figures that looked to have been wizards once. Their robes were dark and torn, with the shreds of their sleeves and sashes hanging down to the ground. In places, they were torn away completely, revealing deathly pale skin covered with patches of dirty red. Harry had hoped to blind them with the light, but it didn't seem to have any affect at all. They just stared back at him mechanically through black, soulless eyes.

"Harry, run!" Ron shouted as the two wizards both began walking toward them quickly.

Harry didn't take time to think of any other plans. Hermione and Ginny were already sprinting as fast as they could. The distance to the gate was not far, but it felt like it was taking an eternity. Before she reached it, Hermione slashed her wand toward the door and to Harry's relief it began creaking open.

Hermione was the first one through, followed quickly by Ron. Ginny wasn't far away and Harry was right behind her. Just before they reached the door, Harry heard a loud hiss, followed by a sharp tug on his cloak. One of the wizards had caught up and was now trying to pull Harry back. Quickly reaching for the cord which kept it closed, he untied it, but not quite fast enough.

The force of the attempt to pull it from him twisted him about, making him trip over his own legs. He stumbled forward into Ginny, forcing her to lose her footing as well. The opening wasn't much further. Harry clutched at Ginny and regained his balance just long enough to make one last push for the gates. As he leaped for the gap between them, burning hot pain sliced through his ankle. His eyes shut tightly against the agony, preventing him from seeing the slight change in his course.

With a second burst of pain, his shoulder slammed against the edge of one of the gates, spinning him around again. His momentum drove him forward, forcing him to tumble onto the ground outside the gateway. A few inches of firm snow cushioned his fall, but it wasn't enough to spare him the agony tearing at his lower leg. He heard himself cry out, but a second voice rose over it.

"_Ginny!_"

It was Ron. Harry twisted on the ground, trying to push himself up as quickly as he could. While he had managed to stumble through the doorway, Ginny hadn't fared so well. She had fallen a few feet short of the gateway. She was now lying on her back and staring into the black as she tried to push herself through the gates. The terrified look on her face told him just how far away their pursuers were.

The two wizards emerged from the shadows a moment later. There was no urgency in their movements. They were cold and controlled, like a pair of hunters who had just cornered their prey. Ginny continued pushing herself away from them, and they followed slowly. For a moment, Harry thought they might simply let her leave, but as soon as she started to get back on her feet a voracious hunger filled their eyes.

She tried to scream, but the closest wizard was too quick. One of his arms shot out, gripping her jaw and covering her mouth with bloodstained fingers. The other clamped down on her shoulder and pulled her to her feet. The wizard just held her for a moment as a malevolent smile spread across his mouth. Then, slowly, his lips curled back and his jaw opened to reveal a set of black teeth, flanked by a pair of long pointed fangs.

They were vampires.

The realization struck him like an icy wave. The world around him seemed to come to a halt. He needed to do something. He couldn't just lay there and watch as they killed Ginny. Ron and Hermione were already reacting, but Harry didn't have much hope that their efforts would have much effect. There was something different about these two vampires. Harry had seen a number of them, but these felt different. They were _rawer_, wilder. Ignoring the pain in his leg, he began crawling for his wand.

He heard Ron shouting something incomprehensible. He paused to see Ron jumping forward to try and rescue Ginny. His attempt was even less effective than Harry would have expected. Before he could manage a single hex, the second vampire had lashed out, tossing Ron back onto the snow and sending his wand flying. Hermione shouted a quick spell and a blinding light erupted from the end of her wand. It struck the vampire who'd attacked Ron, creating a burst bright enough to light up the entire courtyard. Unfortunately, it had little other effect. The vampire looked dazed and off-balance though otherwise unharmed.

The vampire holding Ginny was even less affected. Harry saw its black eyes glaring at him, gloating at their failure to rescue her. With the same slow, confident motion it had shown earlier, it pushed Ginny's head back, exposing her neck. Ginny's arms clutched at it, trying to push it away, but there was no sign that any of her struggling had any affect. The creature's fangs glistened in the moonlight as it bent down to her neck.

He had to do something. He tried to focus, but his mind seemed to be working hopelessly slow. Were the vampires doing that? Could they do that? His wand was still a few feet beyond his reach, but it was the only chance he had. He pushed himself forward and pain exploded in his ankle again. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself onward. Whatever pain he felt was minor compared to what would happen to Ginny if he didn't reach his wand.

It was just a little further. There was no way to tell just how much time had passed. It felt like minutes, but he knew it couldn't have been more than a few seconds. Why weren't Ron and Hermione doing anything? A shrill, panicked scream split the night air, spurring Harry forward the last few inches. His fingers wrapped around his wand and he quickly twisted to aim it directly at the vampires.

He paused. Something was wrong. The vampire's face was against Ginny's neck, but she was still struggling. It hadn't bitten her. It was just holding her. Hermione's wand was pointed at them as well, but like Harry, she had held back, waiting for some explanation. Ron took the opportunity to retrieve his wand as well.

The vampire's black eyes stared at Harry like two empty holes in the night, and then the scene was suddenly broken. The vampire slowly pulled away from Ginny. One hand peeled itself off her shoulder and flexed with restrained rage. The other hesitantly let go of her jaw and quickly curled into a threatening fist as the vampire growled and gave her a baleful glare.

_What had happened?_ Harry asked himself as he forced himself to his feet. His left leg wouldn't take much weight, but he looked even less threatening while lying on his side. The vampires gave no reaction. In fact, they didn't seem to care about Harry at all. Ginny was the only one that mattered to them. They were snarling and baring their fangs at her, but . They were standing startlingly close to her, baring their fangs and snarling, but they were unwilling to touch her for some reason.

"Step back, Ginny," Harry called out in an uneven voice. "Do it _slowly_."

Harry's voice seemed to wake her from her shock. She took a small step back, inching toward the threshold of the gateway. The vampires followed her, keeping their distance. She took another, this time slipping a hand into her pocket to fetch her wand. When she pulled it out, the vampires hissed furiously at her, yet they still didn't attack.

Ginny took another step back, then another. She had passed through the gateway and was only a few feet away from the threshold of the gates. The vampires stalked after her, crouching down slightly like predators preparing to strike. From the corner of his eye, Harry caught Hermione making gestures at Ginny. He understood. The vampires couldn't be allowed to leave the Gatehouse. Without knowing what had stopped them, there was no telling when the vampires might suddenly turn on them again. Harry glanced over at Ron and saw him raise his wand.

"Ginny, _run!_" he shouted.

As quickly as she could, Ginny turned and bolted away from the two vampires. Understanding the plan, Harry spun around and aimed his wand as well. There was no need for incantations. A simple shutting spell would do. The two creatures attempted to leap through the doors, but they weren't quick enough. With the force of three powerful spells driving them, the door slammed shut. A second later, the gates shivered as they were struck with a blow of inhuman force. A second and third blow fell, but the doors held. Hermione quickly found the set of steel beams used bar the gates and set them in place. The sound of the next hit was dull and unimpressive. Only silence followed it. The attack was over.

Ginny collapsed onto the snow. "What— I—" she panted. "Why did they stop?"

Harry limped toward her, wincing in pain. "Are you alright? Are you sure they—"

"Lie down, Harry," Hermione snapped, "before you injure your leg beyond anything I can heal."

Harry ignored her and continued making his way toward Ginny. She was staring at the barred gates and shaking visibly. As Harry hobbled over to her, she seemed to wake up. Her eyes locked onto his and she stopped breathing altogether. She was completely terrified.

"Did it—" she gasped in fright, "I— I couldn't feel—" She stopped talking abruptly, dropped her wand into the snow and twisted her neck as her hands frantically searched the spot where the vampire's mouth had touched her.

"I can't feel anything," she cried out in a panicked voice. She ran her hand down her neck, then held it out to look at it. Unsatisfied, she clutched at Harry's cloak and pulled him closer. He stumbled and groaned at the spike of pain in his ankle, but Ginny didn't seem to care.

"Is there any blood?" she shouted. "Is there a cut or— or _anything_?" Harry struggled to keep his balance and examine her neck at the same time. When he failed to respond quickly enough, Ginny lashed out. "_Harry!_" she barked as she tugged at his robes again. "_Is there any blood?_"

"No," he answered through clenched teeth. She immediately let go and fell back into the snow gasping for air.

The sudden shift in weight caused Harry to shuffle his feet again, eliciting yet another shout of pain. Before he'd fully regained his balance, he saw a ball of light streaking toward him. It struck him in the ribs, forcing him to the ground not far from Ginny. The landing was softer than it would have been without the snow, though far from comfortable.

He tried to push the stabbing sensation in his leg out of his mind. What had happened? Someone had attacked him and he'd dropped his wand again. Ginny hadn't even noticed, she was just staring up into the night sky, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Pushing himself up on one arm, Harry searched for the source of the spell. All he saw was a large dark cloak and a dark colored boot coming right for him. Before he could react, his arm was kicked out from under him and he fell back onto the snow.

"I told you to lie down!" scolded Hermione. "This is no time to be stupid, Harry." She quickly crouched down next to him. With one hand she pinned him to the ground, while the other waved her wand over his injured ankle. Ron came running up a moment later and knelt down next to Ginny. Harry could hear him talking to her, but couldn't quite make out what they were saying.

"You're lucky," Hermione murmured. "It's relatively minor, though I expect it doesn't feel that way."

"Oh, it doesn't."

"Good," she said. "You should be more careful. I'm not a Healer. I fix sprains and minor fractures, but there's not much I can do if you decide to be a moron and injure yourself by walking around on broken bones."

"I'm sure you'd do alright if you tried," he said with a wince as Hermione tapped his ankle with her wand.

"That's not the point," she whispered sharply. "I can mend this quick enough, but it's going to take time for the pain to go away —time we don't have."

"That door will hold for quite a while," Harry told her. "It was made to hold back things much more frightening than a pair of vampires."

"I'm more worried about what's on this side of the gates," she whispered. Harry felt a warmth enveloping his leg and slowly driving the pain from it. Hermione leaned closer and lowered her voice. "Harry, we're not alone."

Pushing himself up a little, Harry's eyes swept around the courtyard. It was broken and burnt. There were no bodies, but he recognized the signs of battle. Several had been fought there. Then, slowly, as his eyes began to adjust to the dark, he saw them: silhouettes in the background, flitting from one shadow to another. There were quite a few of them, a dozen or more, and they were all watching the four of them. Harry looked over at Ron and saw him giving the shapes sidelong glances as he whispered to Ginny.

"More vampires?" Harry asked Hermione.

Hermione held out a hand. "No, I don't think so," she said as she helped him back to his feet. "I'm afraid it's much worse than that."

"What's that?"

"They're refugees," she whispered. "They're here because it's the safest place they could find."

As Harry stared at them, he saw more of them poking their heads out of windows and doorways. In the silence, he heard faint voices whispering to each other in Romanian. He couldn't tell what they were saying, but he didn't need to know the language to hear the emotion in their voice. They were frightened.

"They can't leave."

"The whole city is a trap," Hermione answered. "No one can get out."

"You can feel it, can't you?" Harry asked, finally expressing a feeling he'd had for some time. "That's how you knew what was happening at Cornwall. That's why you left Hogwarts to get help. You could feel that Evelyn was there."

Hermione nodded faintly.

"What do you feel now?" Harry pressed her. "Where is it?"

Hermione's gaze was hollow. "It's everywhere," she whispered. "It's been waiting. It knows we're here and it's coming for us."

"What are you two talking about?" Ron interrupted.

"We need to get moving," Harry announced. Ginny was on her feet again and looking a little more calm. He walked over to her, clenching his jaw at the dull throbbing in his foot. She insisted that she was alright but he could tell that there was something troubling her. Something in the way she looked at him said that there was more on her mind that she wasn't willing to discuss at the moment. He wanted to find out just what it was, but Hermione was becoming even more insistent about the need to leave.

"Where are we going?" Ron asked as they stepped over the remnants of the broken arches which had once stood over the entrance to the courtyard.

"The Castle," Harry answered. "That man, Mihai, said that there were other wizards there. That's where Dragomir will be."

"How do we know they're still there?" Ron asked. "We already know they couldn't keep Evelyn out before. Why should we believe she didn't sneak in and kill them all?"

"Because that man said Dragomir had tried to gather all of them _after_ Evelyn disappeared. He must have known that Evelyn had left. That was when he sent the message. He would have known that the Castle needed to be held at all costs, but he kept the Gatehouse guarded as well. It was the only way we could get here quickly."

"And that didn't seem to work too well, did it?" commented Ron. "How will we know that we're not walking into an even bigger trap?"

"It's all we've got," said Harry. "We'll never know until we get there. I have to believe the Brotherhood hasn't failed completely."

"Why is that?"

"If they have, then things are going to go very badly."

As if to accentuate this observation, a group of screams rang out behind them. They all turned around and saw flashes of light coming from the courtyard they just left. Another longer scream was cut short suddenly, punctuated by an unsettling sound somewhat like the mixing of a howl and shout of agony.

Ron pulled out his wand and started running back to the courtyard, but Harry quickly put out an arm to stop him. Ron turned to glare at Harry.

"We've got to help them!" he shouted. "Those vampires are going to—"

"It's not the vampires," Hermione interrupted in a hollow voice. Like Harry she had made no move to help the people.

Ron was outraged. "I don't care what it is! We can't just let them— Ginny," he said, pleading with her, "we saved you. We can—"

"No," Ginny said, cutting him off, "you didn't save me. I don't know what saved me." She gave Harry a sidelong glance, but continued speaking to Ron. "Whatever is back there, it's not what we came for."

"So we let them die?"

"We do what we have to, Ronald!" she shouted back at him. "Don't you see what's happening here? Everyone in the Gatehouse was killed because someone knew we were coming. That man was only allowed to live in order to let us know what had happened here. Those people back there, they're being attacked because _we were there._ We might be able to stop this attack, but what about the next, or the one after that? We have to stop the cause, Ron, and we can't do that back there. If we try to help them, we might cause an even stronger attack."

The shocked expression on Ron's face seemed to express Harry's thoughts as well. Turning away from the fading screams, Ron pocketed his wand and reluctantly followed the rest of them as they started up the gentle incline of the High Street leading to the Castle.

As they walked, Harry led the way with Hermione at his side. If she was able to somehow sense approaching danger, he wanted to know as quickly as possible. Ron and Ginny walked some distance behind them. This put them far enough away to keep them out of any traps or ambushes which might have been laid for them, but close enough to be able to help should anything happen. The longer they walked, the better this idea appeared.

All of the buildings they passed as they continued along the street were darkened; however, some of them were much darker than others. Harry had walked the city enough to spot the empty spots where shops used to be. In some cases, you could still spot broken beams or piles of rubble where they had once stood. He knew some of the buildings. Some he even remembered hiding or buying supplies in.

"Harry," hissed Hermione. "Up ahead of us. I saw... something."

Harry paused for a moment, just long enough to glance back at Ron and Ginny. When he turned back around, the street was empty. He wanted to question Hermione to see if she was certain of what she'd seen, but the look on her face said everything. When she told him, she had been certain. Now she was questioning herself, too.

Harry decided to keep moving. The street was far too quiet. It was normally teaming with people far into the night but now the four of them were the only people he could see anywhere. The fact that Hermione had even thought she'd seen something moving was suspicious. They continued on, and the scene around them began to deteriorate into something that looked more like a horrific disaster than any sort of attack. The damage was extensive and indiscriminate. Debris was littered across the street, mixed with the occasional shapeless lump. Harry slowed down to take a closer look, but Hermione quickly pulled him away.

"It's a corpse, Harry," she said in a tense voice. "Just keep walking."

Harry balked. "It might be able to tell us what happened here."

Hermione's response was cold and sharp. "If you don't keep walking, I'm sure you'll find out." As she spoke, her eyes darted over to one side of the street, then the other. Harry followed her gaze and immediately reached for his wand.

"Just—keep—walking," Hermione growled.

Perched atop the broken roof of a nearby building was the dark shape of a man in a cloak. It was hunched over as though peering down at them. Another was crouched low and climbing a set of stairs on the other side of the street. Harry did as Hermione told him. Before long, he'd spotted more of them: a pair of shadows in an alleyway simply standing and watching them pass.

"What are they?" Harry whispered to Hermione.

"I don't know," she replied.

"More vampires?"

"That word doesn't seem to fully describe them."

"Where did they come from?" Harry asked, though he didn't honestly expect an answer. "There's no way they could have been hiding in the city all this time. They must have come in from somewhere. Evelyn said she didn't have trouble sneaking in but she's just one person. This amount of devastation would take an army. There's no way they all slipped past the guards without being noticed."

Hermione looked troubled but said nothing.

Harry tried not to make it appear as if he were paying any attention to them. It was difficult to believe that the shapes and figures they saw lurking about were the same sort of people they had spotted in the courtyard. These moved with an eerie confidence. They weren't afraid or trying to escape. The conclusion seemed obvious: They had been the ones who had attacked the refugees in the courtyard.

Harry forced himself to continue. There was nothing else for him to do. The shapes seemed to disappear as quickly as they appeared. He might spend hours trying to track down just one of them. Continuing toward the Castle was their only option.

The street ahead of them was getting slightly lighter, but it wasn't the cold, clean light of the moon. A dirty, ominous glow was filling the air, staining the night sky a rusty orange. Off to his left, Harry spotted the source. A large tumbled building was hiding the smoldering flames of what must have been a huge fire. The smoke had risen to choke out the moon and fill the air with suffocating fumes. Harry slowed down to keep Ron and Ginny in sight behind him.

A light wind was driving the smoke from the fires down and across the raised street, making it rather difficult to see much of anything in front of him. As they crept forward, he spotted another clump of corpses lying in the middle of the street. They approached slowly, picking a path to skirt the clump of bodies without getting too close to the dark buildings on either side.

Behind him, Ginny gasped suddenly. Harry froze and immediately spun around to see what had happened. Ginny's eyes were wide in fear as she raised her arm slowly to point back toward the center of the street.

One of the bodies was moving. Harry lowered his wand and was about to rush forward to help them, but Ginny and Hermione quickly grabbed him. Through the smoke, he saw the shape of a woman slowly standing up. Her robes were charred and stained with several prominent tears, one of them starting near her hip and extending all the way to the hem. Her exposed leg was pale, with a deep gash running the full length of her thigh. It looked deep and recent, but there was no sign of any bleeding.

Once standing, she turned to face them. Through a curtain of tangled blonde hair, her inky black eyes stared over his shoulder at Ron and Ginny. Her head twitched slightly to glare at Harry. Narrowing her eyes in malice, she bared a set of black, pointed teeth and let out a faint hiss. In an instant, Ron was at his side with his wand aimed directly at her. She gave no reaction to this and instead turned to look at the bodies on the street with something reminiscent of remorse. With a final hiss, she walked away, ducking into a narrow alley between two buildings, leaving them alone again.

"Someone was really angry here," Ron commented as he looked around them. Harry did the same and quickly realized that there were more bodies than he cared to count. Many of them looked to have been dead for some time. Others, like the one the female vampire had been kneeling over, were much more recent.

"Harry," Ginny said weakly, "I recognize this place. I remember that alley."

Suddenly, memories fell into place and he remembered it as it once had been: one of the more picturesque points along the High Street, flanked by tall buildings, one of them a popular and well respected inn. The alley led to one of the better markets in the city. Harry had been there several times. It was a great place to slip away from any pursuers. He had used it for just that purpose on the day when Ginny finally found him. The flickering glow of flame make it obvious just what state it was in now.

"I need to talk to Harry," Ginny announced. Ron and Hermione shared worried glances and remained silent. Without waiting for him to answer, Ginny began walking, making her way through the smoke. He quickly followed her, leaving Ron and Hermione to take up the rear guard. After a minute or so, the smoke thinned and he and Ginny increased the distance between to Ron and Hermione.

"What is it?" he asked.

"They're not attacking us," she whispered.

"I can see that."

"Why not?"

Harry took a moment to think of an answer. "It's as if they are being drawn to us and repelled at the same time. It doesn't take much imagination to figure out what's drawing them. The mystery is what's keeping them away." Ginny's lips tightened and she looked away for a moment.

Keeping her eyes fixed on the path ahead of them, she spoke quietly. "Is it you?"

"What?"

"Are you stopping them?" she said in a forceful but hushed voice. "Are you... _making_ them stay back? Is that what happened back—"

"I— No— I don't even—" stammered Harry. He stopped to think. "No," he finally answered. "No, it's not like the other times. They didn't stop attacking you when I wanted them to. They didn't react to me. They only reacted—"

"—To me?" she said, finishing his thought. "You think that I'm doing it?" Her voice sounded angry, but Harry could hear the fear and confusion in it.

"No, that's not what I meant," he said, trying to calm her. "All of this is tied together. The Veil, Grigore, Mira, Evelyn, the attack at Cornwall, these vampires," he said, waving his hand at another dark shape clinging to a nearby rooftop. "It's all the same. I know that I've got some part to play in all this, but so do you."

"And just what part would that be?"

"I haven't figured that out just yet," he replied. Grigore had, though. From the very first moment he met Grigore, he had insisted that Harry stay away from Ginny. He insisted it would keep her safe. Had it been a lie? How long had he been watching her? In the end, he'd valued her life over his own. What knowledge had he taken with him? What did he know about Ginny? He must have known about whatever dark force was hiding behind the Veil. How much control did he have over his actions? Was he trying to save her from it, or bring her to it?

These thoughts troubled him as they continued past the blasted and charred remains of the small potion shop Harry had told Ginny to go to when Grigore had let Ginny look into the Veil. She'd told him that she'd seen Tom Riddle. He'd never figured out what it meant. Why hadn't she seen what he had? He wanted it to be an illusion, but his heart told him there was more to it.

Memories of the conversation he'd had with the Seer at St. Mungo's filtered through his mind. He said Harry wasn't ready for the answers. Harry disagreed, but he thought he was starting to understand what the man meant. As they walked, he stole glances at Ginny. Every time he looked at her, he could almost _feel_ the answer to his questions, but he could never quite get a grasp of them.

The force that had been stalking them wanted Ginny for some reason. How did it even know about her? Mira had said something about it mistaking Ginny for someone called the Angel. While it could explain some things, it didn't explain why Ginny was so important. Mira looked very much like a younger version of Ginny, but she had been attacked and tortured and killed.

Something about Ginny was special. Somehow, this thing knew her. The Seer said it couldn't be Voldemort. Who else could have such a strong connection to her? There was one other possibility, but Harry refused to let himself even think about it. _It's not possible. It was just an illusion,_ he told himself. _It was trying to get me to doubt myself._

"Harry!" Ron called from behind him. "Something's happening up ahead."

Harry woke himself from his thoughts and scanned the last few blackened shops between them and the gates to the Castle. His eyes couldn't find anything out of the ordinary, but his ears could. Off to the right, in one of the stone guardhouses flanking the gate, he heard the sound of breaking wood and some sort of struggle. Harry put his hand on Ginny's shoulder to hold her back as he stepped forward with his wand.

He managed to take only a few steps before the door to the gatehouse exploded, showering the street with splinters of wood. A large shape burst out of the doorway an instant later, tumbling across the street. In the moment that it struggled to get onto its feet, Harry began to wonder just what it was. It wasn't another vampire. It appeared to be a creature of some sort, but it moved more like a man. The remnants of a robe and dark-colored cloak still clung to its shoulders, obscuring its shape. Harry finally got a better look at it when it turned to snarl at him.

It was covered in fur and had a roughly wolf-like face, but it wasn't really a werewolf. It looked more like a man caught halfway in the transformation to wolf, yet there was no sign that it was going to be changing. There was, however, quite a bit of evidence that it didn't suffer from the same reluctance to attack them that the vampires had shown.

Before Harry could even aim his wand, the thing leaped forward. He heard Ginny scream and Ron shout something from behind him. A jet of sparks shot past him, just inches away from his shoulder. It struck the creature, exploding into a burst of smoke and orange sparks. The creature let out a howl of pain and fury, but it didn't have any other effects.

"_Stupefy!_" Harry shouted with all of his concentration.

With unnatural speed, the wolf-like creature dodged the red beam of light and sprang forward. Harry felt a flash of terror as it closed the distance between them in an instant. He could see the long teeth lining its jaws and its malevolent, yellow eyes. Instinctively, he bent his knees and began twisting away. If he could deflect the first attack and give the others a clear shot, they stood a pretty good chance.

However, as soon as he began dodging the creature, he knew he had made a critical mistake. A long, clawed hand swung around, slamming into his chest, tossing him further in the direction he'd been trying to dodge. For the second time, he felt himself land on the cold ice and snow, but he didn't even feel the pain. He was focused on the creature, its short muzzle opened wide in an enraged howl as it ran forward, completely ignoring Harry.

The world seemed to slow down. Harry's stomach clenched painfully as white hot rage flared inside him. He'd been so stupid. He should have expected it. It had never meant to attack him. It was headed right for Ginny. Apparently still in shock over seeing Harry thrown down, she was still raising her wand.

With a roar, the creature wrapped a furry hand around her arm, bending it toward the darkened sky and making her cry out in pain. Her wand dropped to the street as it twisted her arm further. A pair of shouts rang out, but Harry could barely recognize them. His ears were filled with a great rushing sound as his anger overflowed.

Ginny dropped to the ground in an attempt to wrench her arm free and give Ron and Hermione a chance to help her. The creature's grip held and it dragged her across the street, hurling her against a nearby building. She struck the stone wall and collapsed onto the snowy ground, coughing and gasping for air.

Harry scrambled to his feet as a pair of spells struck the creature. Neither of them seemed to have any affect. It continued on its path toward Ginny, snarling in fury. A large ball of flame struck it next, engulfing one of its arms in flames. It howled in agony, quickly raising the burning arm and swinging it downward to slash at Ginny as she cowered on the ground. Another hex struck it in the back with little effect.

The creature was crouched over Ginny now, clawing and slashing at her. She seemed to be fighting back, but there was little that she could do without a wand. Harry knew what he had to do. All thoughts of hesitation or restraint drained away. He raised his wand and focused on the sound of Ginny's screams. He loved her. He had to save her. He had to stop it.

A crackling bolt of green light shot out of his wand and slammed into the creature's back. It was thrown into the stone wall, causing the masonry to crack and rain down broken chunks of rock and small bits of mortar. The creature fell back to the street, only feet away from Ginny but too stunned and shaken to continue the attack. To Harry's amazement, she began crawling away.

The creature reacted immediately, reaching out toward her foot. Without thinking, Harry's wand slashed through the night air. One of the broken shards of stone shot off the ground and into the creature's arm, pinning it to the wall behind it. It let out a long, mournful cry and collapsed onto the street, pawing at the wound with its other hand.

"What the bloody hell is that thing?" Ron asked as he walked up next to Harry, keeping his wand pointed at the creature's chest.

"It's a werewolf... almost," Hermione said. "Harry, look at its cloak."

Harry had already noticed it. Though it was torn and covered in dark stains he didn't want to identify, it was easy enough to see that it was one of the purple cloaks worn by the city guards. The thing let out a tortured whimper and tugged at its arm in a futile effort to escape.

After managing to put a few more feet between her and the creature, Ginny had stopped and now she stared at it with a look of disgust and pity. "Is that where they went?" she asked. "Is that what happened to the Brotherhood?"

Her voice pulled Harry's thoughts away from the creature. With sudden urgency he ran to Ginny's side. Icy panic flowed through his veins as he quickly inspected her. After quite a bit of looking he sat back, dumbfounded. There wasn't a single scratch on her.

"I— I don't know how," she said, reading the question in Harry's eyes. "It was right on top of me, but... It was almost as if—"

"Harry—" Hermione called out.

"In a second," he snapped. "Are you certain? It didn't bite you? Not even a little?"

She didn't answer. She didn't even seem to have been listening to him. Instead, her eyes were looking over his shoulder and down the street where they had come from. "We need to go, Harry," she whispered.

Harry helped Ginny to her feet. Slowly walking up the street was the blonde vampire they had passed earlier. Though her expression was filled with hatred and fury, her movements were smooth and restrained. Two more vampires were following some distance behind her.

"If we make it to the gate, can we lock it?" Ron asked quietly.

"I think so," said Harry. "Everyone, start walking toward the gate," he commanded.

A high pitched howl cut through the air and Harry turned just in time to see the werewolf pull his arm free with a sickening snap. With superhuman speed, it launched itself toward Ginny. Harry reacted without thinking. He slashed his wand through the air, drawing a wide arc across the shape of the werewolf as it ran. A chorus of sharp cracking sounds echoed off the burnt walls of the buildings flanking the street. The creature let out a horrible tortured howl as it collapsed onto the ground not far from Ginny's feet and lay still.

Harry spun about to face the advancing vampires, but they had already stopped. The woman in the lead tilted her head and hissed at him, but made no move toward him. After a moment, they began retreating without any reason or explanation. Satisfied that any attack they might have been planning had been foiled, he turned back to the werewolf. Both of its legs were bent and twisted in unnatural positions and a number of broken ribs were clearly visible where its robes had been torn away.

Harry stepped closer and aimed his wand at the creature's head, trying to gather the force of will to end its existence. He had been prepared for one final attack, but it never came. It simply lay there on the icy street, its jaws slack and its eyes staring emptily at Harry as it struggled to take in each breath.

Then a glint of light caught Harry's eye. Something on the street near its neck was reflecting the moonlight, giving off a warm glow. Looking closer, Harry saw that it was a talisman made of a simple gold ring passing through three silver spheres. It was confirmation of a fact he'd already guessed. The more troubling part was the rather distinctive pair of golden chains it was hanging from. Harry knew of only one wizard who'd worn such a thing.

"It's... It's Andros," he muttered as he stared down into the creature's eyes. It let out a single mournful wail.

"What are you going to do, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Nothing. We've got other things to do."

"He was a good wizard. He was your friend," she said sharply. "He risked his life for you. You can't just leave him here."

"He also attacked us. We can't trust him. If he can't follow us, he can't hurt us or himself. That's all I care about at the moment."

Harry turned to walk away, but Hermione drew her wand and strode toward the thing that used to be Andros. Before Harry had a chance to stop her, she was already shouting an incantation.

"_Venenus letalis!_"

A slow plume of yellowish mist shot out of the end of Hermione's wand and floated down toward the creature's face. Tendrils of the vapor swirled around eventually being inhaled as the creature fought for air.

"What did you do?" Harry shouted, but it was all too clear. The creatures labored breathing became more erratic. Its eyes widened and its breathing became shallower until its jaws were opening and closing helplessly as it choked on the night air. Harry watched in horror as its broken limbs flailed uselessly.

"You poisoned him?"

"Someone had to!" she shouted. Then, as the creature was still gasping in vain, she stepped on the arm closest to her, pinning it to the ground. Quickly, she jabbed her wand into its chest, shouting, "_Congelo!_"

Almost instantly, it began struggling less. After a few more gasps, it gave one last shudder and then lay completely motionless on the stone street.

Ginny and Ron came running forward. "What did you just do?" Ron asked in shock. "You just... killed it? Just like that? Why didn't you do that earlier?"

"It doesn't work from a distance, Ron," she answered flatly. "I would have ended up poisoning Ginny, too."

"You shouldn't have killed him," Harry said, trying to control his anger.

"No, Harry, I shouldn't have," she replied. "_You_ should have."

"He was no threat to us anymore! He's a werewolf. He can't control himself. Would you have killed Lupin if he attacked us?"

Hermione's face flushed with anger. "Of course not, but _that's_ not a werewolf," she shouted, pointing at the corpse nearby. "Look at the moon, Harry."

He looked up and understood what she meant. The moon was bright, but it was little more than a half moon. The full moon was more than ten days away.

"Now look at him," she continued. "Any third year knows that's not a normal werewolf. He shouldn't even be changing at all without a full moon. That wasn't a temporary state. That was torture. He was a good wizard and I gave him the death that he deserved. He risked his life for you. You _owed_ him that. You know what did this. You knew how his life would end. You owed him a normal, restful death."

Harry's eyes found hers and in them he saw both disapproval and a quiet plea that he would remember this lesson for a future that neither of them wanted to think about.

"He was just like Mira," Ginny commented as she looked at the body. "He knew what was happening, but he couldn't end it himself." She looked up and found Harry. "That's why he attacked me. He knew someone would have to stop him. It was the only way he could make it stop."

Harry began to understand what the Seer had meant when he said that he had hoped that Evelyn would live to find a more wholesome death.

"Hold on," commented Ron. "You all knew this bloke, and he attacked us _hoping_ that we'd kill him?"

"It wasn't really him," Harry replied in an emotionless voice. "It was, but only just enough to be recognizable. Hermione was right to kill him. It was what he wanted. He always had a strong will. He used the last of his strength to show us what had happened here. He wanted to make sure we knew what needed to be done."

"And just what is that?" Ron asked as he waved a hand back toward the direction they'd just walked. "You sort of left that part out. You said we needed to come here. You said that Dragomir needed your help. You've never really said how exactly we're supposed to do that."

"There's no time," replied Harry. "We need to move. It's not safe here." He ushered Ginny away from Andros and up the street toward the large gates at its end. Ron followed close behind with a disgruntled expression.

Harry had hoped to find the Castle gates locked and guarded by whatever was left of the Brotherhood. The eerie silence as they approached told a different story. They passed into the shadows under a tall arch and stopped in front of a pair of heavy doors. Instead of being shut and barred, one of the doors was slightly ajar, leaving just enough room for someone to slip through. Harry had a bad feeling, but he ignored it and cautiously stepped through the gap.

As Ron, Hermione, and Ginny followed, Harry looked around at the small courtyard just inside the gate. It looked just as it had any other night. There were no charred blast marks, no cracked or broken stones, no burnt trees and no bodies. It was simply empty. The sound of slamming gates echoed through the courtyard. He spun around and found Ron pointing his wand at the gates.

"Why are we here, Harry?" Ron asked rather forcefully.

"Because Dragomir needs help —and so does Josef."

"Well, I hate to sound pessimistic, but take a look around," Ron replied. "This place is deserted. That message was sent quite a few days ago. Whoever you were hoping to help either fled or died —or worse. You said Josef was hunting the Brotherhood. It looks like they're gone, so why are we still here? I think it's time you tell us what we're here to do."

"You've seen what's causing this. You've seen what it can do," Harry replied. "Someone has to stop it."

Harry saw the restrained anger in Ron's eyes. "I know that. We knew that after the attack at Cornwall. Evelyn just confirmed it. What are we supposed to do about it? You said it was imprisoned here. You said it couldn't escape. Shouldn't we be looking for Josef?"

"I was wrong. It will escape unless we find some way to stop it. Maybe it already has."

"And how do you know that?" Ron asked suspiciously. "The only message the Brotherhood sent you didn't say anything about that. You couldn't have known all this time. You would have done something. You learned something at St. Mungo's, something you didn't know before."

"It's not—"

"It _is_ important, Harry," said Ron. "Nothing you would have said would have stopped me from coming here. I don't care if we've got to fight a Dark Lord, a dozen of those creatures or a hundred doxies. All I ask is for some honesty and trust."

Harry looked into his eyes and saw that he was telling the truth. Ginny and Hermione had a better idea of what they were facing. Ron had only seen the start of the attack at Cornwall, yet when Harry had said he meant to go to Romania, Ron hadn't hesitated. After surveying the area and finding nothing remotely threatening Harry decided that Ron had a point.

"When I went to visit Evelyn," Harry began, "there was a man in her room. We talked for some time. There are things he... just knows. He knew about the attacks. He knew about the amulet. He showed it to me."

"He had it?" gasped Hermione. "But how—"

"I don't know."

"And how do you know that this wizard wasn't the one behind all the attacks?" asked Ron.

"I don't know how to describe it. I could _feel_ that Evelyn wasn't herself," Harry tried to explain. "He was different. He was kind, humble, almost... sad. He didn't like knowing the things he did."

Ron's eyes narrowed in confusion. "He didn't— What sort of things?"

"He knew what Evelyn was doing. He knew the Brotherhood was being hunted. He knew that we would come here to stop it."

"How could he know that? You hadn't left yet."

Harry frowned. "I think he is a Seer."

"A Seer?" Ron said with obvious skepticism. "Well, did he see how we'd stop this thing?"

"No."

"Typical. So what did he say?"

Harry knew what he should have said, but he couldn't lie to Ron. Before he had a chance to think of anything better, he heard himself say: "It doesn't matter." Ginny and Hermione turned to stare at Harry, while Ron just stared at him as if he were waiting to hear something more.

"It doesn't matter?" Ron repeated when he got nothing more. "You trusted him enough to bring all of us here, but it doesn't matter what else he said about it?"

"I thought you didn't believe in Divination."

"I don't," replied Ron stiffly. "Tell me anyway."

"Ron, we don't have time for this," he said. "He said a lot of things that didn't make sense. I don't think he even understood all of it. There's no point in trying to guess what it would mean."

Ron stared at him sternly. "What did he say, Harry?"

Harry didn't answer. There was nothing he could do. After a moment of silence, he could read the thoughts in his friends' eyes. All of them had come to the same conclusion. He'd expected them to be angry at him for his refusal to tell them, but they just stared at him resignedly. They understood. They knew the news wouldn't be good and it was better to leave it unspoken.

"We need to get moving," Harry announced softly. None of them said anything more. Ron let out a deep sigh and nodded.

"Alright, let's go then."

He began walking across the courtyard to the main door to the Castle. As he reached out to push the door open, he heard the old man's words echoing in his mind:

_You will try, and you will fail._

HR

The interior of the Castle had the same feeling as the courtyard. There were no signs of any fighting at all. In fact, most of the doors were left open. At first glance it looked almost as if the place had been evacuated extremely quickly. It took only a little while for Harry to see that it was more than that.

As they followed the open doors they found themselves walking further and deeper into the castle. It wasn't a path that he was familiar with, but there was little doubt where it was headed. Ron, Ginny and Hermione seemed to understand it as well. They followed in grim silence, clutching their wands.

They followed the path that had been laid out for them. Some of the places were more familiar to Harry. They passed the room where he had slept for three months and a deserted hall filled with toppled chairs where he had eaten with the rest of the Brotherhood. After descending a few more flights of stairs, they passed through another wide hall. It had been one of the places he'd met with the other members to teach them things that Grigore hadn't been willing to. He could still see the scratches on the wall where he'd taught Josef _Sectumsempra_.

They continued to wind their way through the halls and Harry began to wonder if there was some point to all of it. It felt as though he was being led along a path which would force him to remember his time with the Brotherhood. Who had done it? Dragomir or Josef? What could it mean? Was there some clue he wasn't seeing?

They descended another set of stairs and followed a long corridor. At its very end was a junction with two other corridors and yet another flight of stairs. As Harry looked down the stairs, a piercing pain shot through his scar. He let out a sharp gasp.

"I feel it too," Hermione commented quietly.

"Feel what?" Ron asked.

"It's not much farther now."

Harry gritted his teeth and began walking down the stairs. He recognized them quickly. They ended in the large round hall just before the antechamber of the Veil Chamber. It was as far as Evelyn said she'd gotten. Holding his wand out in front of him, he continued down the stairs.

The large hall was empty but lit by a number of torches. At the far end there was a passageway leading down. He knew that they would need to go investigate, but a strong sense of foreboding filled him.

"If any of you start... hearing or feeling anything strange," he whispered, "turn around and run as fast as you can. Don't listen to it."

They slowly crossed the hall and stopped briefly at the top of the passageway. It was completely dark. He lit his wand and tried to shine some light down into the antechamber, but it was impossible to see anything. As if he understood what Harry was going to do, Ron stepped forward and began creeping along one side of the wall. Harry took the other, and they advanced slowly toward the darkness blocking the end of the passage.

The floor leveled out under their feet and though the light from his wand didn't seem to help much, he could feel that they had reached the antechamber.

"_Inflamare!_" Ron shouted. A pair of torches flared to life.

The light of the torches had a little more luck than Harry's wand, but even they struggled to fill the room with light. It was as if some invisible fume hung in the air, choking and swallowing any light. However, there was one observation which became obvious despite the low light.

"It's not filled in," Ron said as he looked at the lightly engraved doors at the other end of the small hall. "Someone cleared it out."

"No," replied Harry. "It was never filled in at all."

"Very good, Harry," called out another voice. Everyone turned back toward the passage to find a cloaked wizard walking toward them with an oddly disturbing smile visible through the shadows under his hood. "You're getting better. Your timing isn't though," he said bitterly. "I was hoping Dragomir would be here to explain it all to you. He proved to be both weaker and stronger than I expected." The wizard slowly pulled back his hood and stared at them with eyes that glowed and flickered as though they were filled with bright green flames.

"Josef—" Ginny cried as she tried to run forward. Harry quickly caught her and pulled her back.

"It's not Josef," he said. "He's being controlled. That's what it does. It takes control of people and makes them do its bidding."

Josef smiled and let out an eerie laugh. "You have come a long way, Harry, but you still have quite a bit to learn. I wonder how you came upon your newfound knowledge. Was it the Priest? Alekseyev? Or their new apprentice?"

Harry had no idea what Josef was talking about, but he didn't want to admit that. "Does it really matter?" he replied stiffly.

"In the end: No," Josef said with a faint smile. "All roads lead to the same destination. All of the choices have been made, save one. There is no point trying to change it now."

"I don't believe in fate," Harry commented contemptuously.

"Of course you don't," laughed Josef. "Do you believe in history?"

"History has no control over the future."

"A common enough sentiment," Josef replied, "though, in this case, it is completely false. History is the key to understanding your future, Harry. Your inability to grasp that fact is the cause of all of this. Even the other Brotherhood members understood their folly when finally faced with the truth. They committed thousands of crimes in the name of forestalling a fate they knew they couldn't prevent, but when the inevitable end came for them, they opened their eyes and realized the uselessness of their struggle."

"And to prove them right, you murdered all of them."

"The Brotherhood was created to serve one purpose. They are no longer needed. I have not murdered all of them, but they have been disbanded," Josef announced. "I suspect that you met a number of them on your journey here. I can't say I know where the rest are. I know the girl killed quite a number of them. She is quite a spiteful creature. I normally prefer more subtlety in my actions. Her methods were messy and time consuming. I found it much simpler to have them hunt each other."

"And the note?" asked Harry. "Did you send it as well?"

"No, though I knew what Dragomir had planned. I believe he tried several times. His owls kept dying. I think the last one was eaten by Andros," Josef added with a chuckle. "He was very upset, but their friendship wasn't what it used to be. I think he finally managed to send it with a wizard by giving him one of the last brooms in the city. I never did find out for certain. He threw himself from the tower before I was able to... ask him."

"I think you're lying," Harry said. "If you knew we were coming, why the confusion? Why let us get this far? If that was your intention, why were we attacked? Or do you not have as much control over your slaves as you want us to think you do?"

Josef's eyes narrowed angrily. "Your arrival here was expected, I assure you. Any other events are irrelevant. I knew you would come. That was unavoidable. I even knew you would bring them with you, though I cannot see why."

"Him I can understand," he said, pointing at Ron. "A follower with such loyalty is a powerful ally. Pity he is so untrained. However, her presence here is more questionable," he continued, throwing a sharp glance toward Ginny. "You claim you care for her, though your actions suggest something quite different. Have you convinced her you are protecting her? She doesn't even suspect what is really happening, does she? She doesn't realize that the thing you're really protecting is the truth. You're terrified of the day when she might find all the dark secrets you've hidden from her."

"I won't play your game," Harry replied. "We won't listen to your lies."

"Lies? You want to talk about lies?" Josef snarled. "What about the lovely Miss Granger?" he said. A dangerous smile spread across his face as he stared at Harry. "You haven't told them, have you? The two of you kept it a secret. How long did you expect it could last? You must have known it would be impossible to hide."

Harry and Hermione exchanged frightened looks, and Josef began laughing. "I expect it felt easy, didn't it? Miss Granger keeps hundreds of secrets. What is one more? Or two?" He paused to raise and arm to point at Hermione. "Those are fine gloves, Miss Granger, but I assure you the room is quite comfortable. Why don't you take them off?"

Hermione did nothing. She simply stood where she was with a defiant expression on her face. From where Harry was standing, though, he could see the fear building in her eyes.

"Do not be impolite, Miss Granger. I am your host and I asked you to _take off your gloves._" With a flick of his finger, Hermione's arm was tugged forward. She fought back, but it was useless. With another flick, a long gash was torn in her gloves and sleeve.

"Stop it!" Harry shouted. Ron stepped forward and raised his wand.

"No, Harry!" yelled Josef. "It is time for the truth." His fingers curled into a fist and with a twist, the glove was pulled free. Ginny and Ron let out a gasp as they looked at Hermione's arm. The dark grey patch had spread and the dark streaks had grown all the way to the tips of her fingers. Her fingernails were already a deep, sickly purple.

"Curious," Josef commented with obvious enjoyment. "It seems that you are the one who has been lying, Harry. I wonder what other lies you have been keeping from her. You worked so hard to bring her back to you. I can only imagine what you've told her to cover up thing things you've done."

"I'm not ashamed of what I've done," he replied. "I'm not proud of it, either. At least I did them myself. I didn't force some puppet to do them for me."

Harry needed more time. He had to think of some sort of plan. He hoped that goading Josef into an argument would help with that. Evelyn had been let go when she fell. Perhaps all he needed to do was seriously injure Josef. Whatever force was controlling him would be forced to flee, giving them time to seal the room permanently.

"Whatever you're planning, Harry, it will not work. You have neither the will nor strength to stop me."

"I'm more powerful than you realize," Harry said.

"No, Harry, it is you who do not realize the extent of your power. Even if you did, you would have no hope to master it. It is everything which you are not."

"Perhaps you'd like to see just how much control I have," Harry said. "You will not win. If I must, I will bring the entire castle down on us all."

"Enough of this pointless discussion," Josef sneered. "I have waited long enough. The path is set. There is no more point in chaining myself to this restrained form. It is time to correct an ancient crime. I will take what was promised to me. Stand aside and you will live. Interfere and you will condemn the world to a darkness you cannot imagine." Josef turned and began walking toward the doors to the Veil Chamber. In a clear voice he began chanting.

_Across the endless wastes and timeless sands_  
_I seek the primal source and final end_

As he spoke, the faint etchings on the door blazed with an unnatural green light. There was no time to think. Harry reached into his pocket, pulled out the wrapped Portkey and handed it to Ginny. It had refused to attack her many times before. She seemed to be the safest choice of any of them.

"Get it ready," he whispered.

Harry lunged forward, stabbing his wand through the air and focusing all his thought on forcing Josef away from the doors. He must have sensed the imminent attack. At the very last moment, he twisted and held out a single hand in an attempt to shield himself. A thunderous clap and a flash of light filled the chamber, leaving Harry's ears ringing and blinding him for a moment. When his eyes adjusted to the dim light again, he found Josef standing just where he had been. Brilliant green light streamed out of his eyes.

"_Impudent child!_" he hissed in Parseltongue. "_You dare wield my own power against me?_"

He raised his other arm, jabbing a finger at Harry. A jet of oily, black smoke shot out, crossing the distance to Harry in an instant. It struck him with amazing force, tossing him backward onto the stone floor. Before he could get back to his feet, Josef was at the doors. A faint tremor shook the floor, and a malevolent voice echoed through the room.

_In my shadow, all life is without hope_  
_In my light, only darkness will remain_

Harry sat up and found Josef slowly opening the doors. His scar throbbed, sending waves of searing pain through his head.

"_Harry!_" Ginny cried. He looked up and found Ron, Hermione, and Ginny standing close together. Hermione and Ron had their wands out and appeared to be casting Shield Charms. In one hand, Ginny was holding the pocket watch which was acting as their Portkey. Her face was pale and filled with fear. "There's no time, Harry!"

Ignoring the pain in his head, he stood up and stumbled toward his friends. Ron stuffed his wand in his pocket and reached out to help Harry back to his feet. As quickly as he could, he reached out to grab a hold of the watch's chain just under Ron's hand. At the other end of the room, Josef had given the doors a mighty shove. As the swung open, they were swallowed up by a thick darkness inside the Veil Chamber.

Josef turned around, green light still pouring from his eyes. "The time has come."

"Do it now, Ginny!" Ron shouted.

Ginny raised her wand to tap the face of the watch. Even as Harry felt the first tug at his stomach, a wave of thick dark smoke billowed out of the doorway, engulfing Josef and rushing toward them as a wall of boiling vapor.

The tugging became more insistent and the world around them became suddenly dark. For a moment, Harry thought they had failed, but after a few seconds of howling wind and flashes of light, the four of them fell onto the polished wooden floor of the Atrium at the Ministry of Magic. His head still throbbed, but the worst of the pain was disappearing quickly.

He sat up, but kept his eyes on the floor and just focused on breathing. Memories of what had happened filled his mind and flooded him with too many emotions to feel at one time. When he finally looked up, he found Hermione sitting nearby. Ron was crouched down next to her, but they weren't speaking or even looking at each other. Instead, Ron's gaze was locked on the dark streaks running from under her sleeve to the tips of her fingers.

Ginny was on her hands and knees a little farther away. In one hand she still clutched the watch. Tears were running down her cheeks.

"We couldn't have saved him, could we?" she asked shakily.

Harry didn't know what to say. "It's better to think that he was already dead."

"I hope so," she replied. "He deserved better than that."

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Well, that's the end of 'Amulet of Stone'. Sorry for all of you who love cliffhangers. I wanted to end the story on one, but this was the best I could do. I'll try harder in the sequel: 'The Jewel of Darkness', which, by the way, has its first chapter already uploaded and ready for you to read.

As always, I welcome comments and questions via email, especially if your name is Voakands.

Sorry for the delay, everyone. Ending stories and starting stories takes time, and I was doing both. Combined with the complicated lives of me and my beta, that left everyone waiting a bit. Sorry. Chapters should pick up again in the future.


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